By this time, they had got into the room, where the landlady lighted one jet of a dirty chandelier.
"There now!" cried the landlady triumphantly.
Mavis looked about her at the gilt-framed glass over the mantelpiece, the table, the five chairs (including one arm), the sofa and the chiffonnier, which was pretty well all the furniture that the room contained. The remains of a fire untidied the grate; the flimsiest curtains were hung before the windows. The landlady was quick to notice the look of disappointment on the girl's face.
"See the bedroom, my dear, before you settle."
This proved to be even less inviting than the sitting-room: hardly any of the furniture was perfect; a dirty piece of stuff was pinned across the window; dust lay heavy on toilet glass and mantel. Happily contrasted with this squalor was the big bed, which was invitingly comfortable and clean.
Mavis was very tired; she looked longingly at the bed, with its luxurious, lace-fringed pillows. The landlady marked her indecision.
"It's very cheap, miss."
"What do you call cheap?"
"Two guineas a week; light an' coals extry."
"Two guineas a week!"