His hands caught hers.
"Let me go," she pleaded.
"But—"
"I want to think. Let me go: let me go!"
His hands still held hers, but with an effort she freed herself, to run from him in the direction of her lodging. She did not once look back, but hurried as if pursued by danger, safety from which lay in the companionship of her thoughts.
Arrived at Mrs Farthing's, she made no pretence of sitting down to her waiting supper, but went straight upstairs to her room. She felt that a crisis had arisen in her life. To overcome it, it was necessary for her to decide whether or not she loved Charlie Perigal. She passed the best part of a sleepless night endeavouring, without success, to solve the problem confronting her. Jill, who always slept on Mavis' bed, was alive to her mistress' disquiet. The morning sun was already high in the heavens when Jill crept sympathetically to the girl's side.
Mavis clasped her friend in her arms to say:
"Oh, Jill, Jill! If you could only tell me if I truly loved him!"
Jill energetically licked Mavis' cheek before nestling in her arms to sleep.
The early morning post brought a letter from Perigal to Mavis, which she opened with trembling hands and beating heart. It ran:—