Had Mavis possessed sufficient strength she would have combated this suggestion; it was as much as she could do to concentrate her wandering attention on the doings of the woman who had played good Samaritan in her extremity.
Mavis saw her cleanse the other side of her face and remove two false teeth from her mouth, actions which completed the transformation from that of a comely, interesting-looking, youngish woman to that of an elderly, extremely commonplace person with foxy, shifty eyes.
"Now I'm 'done.' I never feel reely at home till I get into my shirt sleeves, as you might say," remarked the woman.
Mavis sat up.
"'Ave a drink?" asked her benefactor.
"No, thank you."
"I don't mind a drop out of business hours, when I feel I've earned it, as you might say. I've got a quartern in a bottle. If I'd expected visitors, I'd have got more, but I'll go 'alves."
"No, thank you," repeated Mavis.
"Ah! Don't mind if I do?" said the woman, in the manner of one relieved of the possibility of parting with something that she would prefer to keep.
"Not at all."