Just then Mavis's baby began to cry.
"It's my hard knee," remarked Miss Toombs ruefully. "They always cry when I nurse them."
"I think he's hungry," remarked Mavis.
"Then give the boy his supper. Don't mind me."
Mavis busied herself with the preparations for sterilising the milk, but the boy cried so lustily that, to quiet him, Mavis blushingly undid her bodice to put the nipple of her firm, white breast in his mouth.
"It's the only thing to quiet him," explained Mavis.
"No wonder. He's got taste, has that boy. Don't turn away. It's all so beautiful, and there's nothing wrong in nature."
"What are you thinking of?" asked Miss Toombs presently, after Mavis had been silent for a while. "Don't you feel at home with me?"
"Don't be silly! You know you profess not to believe in Providence."
"What of it?"