The first post brought two letters. One was from Miss Toombs's business acquaintance, offering her a berth at twenty-eight shillings a week; the other was from Montague Devitt, confirming the offer he had made Mavis at Paddington. Devitt's letter told her that she could resume work on the following Monday fortnight. It did not take Mavis the fraction of a second to decide which of the two offers she would accept. She sat down and wrote to Mr Devitt to thank him for his letter; she said that the would be pleased to commence her duties at the time suggested. The question of where and how she was to lodge her baby at Melkbridge, and, at the same time, avoid all possible risk of its identity being discovered, she left for future consideration. She was coming back from posting the letter, when she was overtaken by Windebank, who was driving a superb motor car. He pulled up by the kerb of the pavement on which she was walking.
"Good morning," he cried cheerily. "I was coming to take you out."
"Shopping?" she asked.
"To have a day in the country. Jump in and we'll drive back for the youngster."
"It's very kind of you, but—-"
"There are no 'buts.' I insist."
"I really mustn't go," said Mavis, thinking longingly of the peace of the country.
"But you must. Remember you've someone else to think of besides yourself."
"You?"
"The youngster. A change to country air would do him no end of good."