"He admits that himself."
"He's a pretty boy. But I don't think he's the man to make a woman happy, unless—"
"Unless what?"
"She despised him or knocked him about."
"I won't forget," laughed Mavis.
"Good day."
"Won't you come home to tea?"
"No, thanks," said Miss Toombs, as she made off, to leave Mavis gazing at the ill-dressed, squat figure hurrying along the road.
As might be expected, Miss Hunter's and Miss Toombs' disparagement of Charlie Perigal but served to incline Mavis in his favour. She thought of him all the way home, and wondered how soon she would see him again. When she opened the door of her room, an overpowering scent of violets assailed her nostrils; she found it came from a square cardboard box which lay upon the table, having come by post addressed to her. The box was full of violets, upon the top of which was a card.
She snatched this up, to see if it would tell her who had sent the flowers. It merely read, "With love to Jill."