Part 119 (2/2)
The woman stared at Harold in astonishment.
”Think how the poor girl's suffered,” he continued.
”Do you really think so?” asked the woman.
”She's lost her child.”
”But I always understood that those who lose children out of wedlock cannot possible grieve like married women who have the same loss.”
In a moment Mavis's thoughts flew to Pennington Churchyard, where her heart seemed buried deep below the gra.s.s; certain of her facial nerves twitched, while tears filled her eyes. Devitt's voice recalled her to her surroundings; she looked up, to catch his eyes looking kindly into hers. Although she made an effort to join in the talk, she was mentally bowing her head, the while her being ached with anguish. She did not recover her spirits for the rest of the evening.
There came a day when one of the big guns of the financial world was expected to dinner. Mavis had many times met at Melkbridge House some of the lesser artillery of successful business men, when she had been surprised to discover what dull, uninteresting folk they were; apart from their devotion to the cult of money-getting, they did not seem to have another interest in life, the ceaseless quest for gold absorbing all their vitality. This big gun was a Sir Frederick Buntz, whose interest Devitt, as he told Mavis, was anxious to secure in one of his company-promoting schemes. In order to do Devitt a good turn, Mavis laid herself out to please the elderly Sir Frederick, who happened to have an eye for an attractive woman. Sir Frederick scarcely spoke to anyone else but Mavis throughout dinner; at the end of the evening, he asked her if she advised him to join Devitt's venture.
Mavis's behaviour formed the subject of a complaint made by Mrs Devitt when alone with Montague in their bedroom.
”Didn't you notice the shameless way she behaved?” asked Mrs Devitt.
”Nonsense!” replied her well-pleased lord.
”Everyone noticed it. She's rapidly going from bad to worse.”
”Anyway, it's as good as put five thousand in my pocket, if not more.”
”What do you mean?”
Montague's explanation modified his wife's ill opinion of Mavis. The next morning, when Devitt thanked his daughter-in-law for influencing Sir Frederick in the way she had done, Mavis said:
”I want something in return.”
”Some shares for yourself?”
”A rise of a pound a week for Miss Toombs.”
”That plain, unhealthy little woman at the boot factory!”
”She's a heart of gold. I know you'll do it for me,” said Mavis, who was now conscious of her power over Devitt.
Having won her way, Mavis set out to intercept Miss Toombs, who about this time would be on her way to business. They had not met since Mavis's marriage to Harold, Miss Toombs refusing to answer Mavis's many letters and always being out when her old friend called.
Mavis ran against Miss Toombs by the market-place; her friend looked in worse health than when she had last seen her.
”Good morning,” said Mavis.
”Don't talk to me,” cried Miss Toombs. ”I hate the sight of you.”
”No, you don't. And I've done you a good turn.”
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