The woman took no notice of Mavis' ungracious speech: she was staring hard at Mavis' shoes. "Fancy wearin' that lovely dress with them tuppenny shoes!" cried Miss Ewer suddenly. "They are rather worn." "Oh, you young fool! Beginner, I s'pose." "I beg your pardon." "Must be. No one else could be such a fool. Don't you know the gentlemen is most particular about underclothes, stockings and shoes?" "It's a matter of utter indifference to me what the 'gentlemen' think," said Mavis with conviction. "Go on!" "Very well, if you don't believe me, you needn't." "Here, I say, what are you?" asked Miss Ewer. "Tell me, and then we'll know where we stand." "Tell you what?" "Are you a naughty girl or a straight girl?" "What do you mean?" "Straight girls is them as only takes presents like silk stockings an' gloves from the gentlemen, like them girls in 'Dawes'." "Girls in 'Dawes'!" echoed Mavis. "They do a lot of 'arm; but yet you can't blame 'em: gentlemen will pay for anything rather than plank money down to them naughty girls as live by it." "While I'm here, do you mind talking about something else?" asked Mavis angrily. "I 'ave it. I 'ave it," cried Miss Ewer triumphantly. "You're one of the lucky ones. You're kep'." "I beg your pardon." "And good luck to you. Don't drink, keep him loving and generous, and put by for a rainy day, my dear: an' good luck to you." "I'm well enough to go now," said Mavis, as she rose with something of an effort. "Eh!" "Thank you very much. Would you kindly show me the way out?" "You've forgotten something, ain't yer?" "What?" "A little present for me." "I've no money on me: really I haven't." "Go on!" "See!" cried Mavis, as she turned out the pockets of her cloak. To her great surprise, many gold coins rolled on to the floor. "Gawd in 'Eaven!" cried Miss Ewer, as she stooped to pick them up. Mavis wondered how they had got there, till it occurred to her how Windebank, pitying her poverty, must have taken the opportunity of putting the money in her pocket when he insisted upon getting and helping her into her coat at the restaurant. She at once told herself that she could not touch a penny piece of it, indeed the touch of it would seem as if it burnt her fingers. Her present concern was to get away as far from the money as possible. "'Ow much can I 'ave?" cried Miss Ewer, who was on her knees greedily picking up the coins. "All." "All? Gawd's trewth!" "Every bit. Only let me go; at once." "'Ere, if you're so generous, ain't you got no more?" said Miss Ewer, the while her eyes shone greedily. "I'll see," said Mavis, as she thoroughly turned out her pockets. Another gold piece fell out; also, a bunch of violets. "Vilets!" laughed Miss Ewer. "Don't touch those. No one else shall have them," cried Mavis, as she wildly snatched them. "You're welcome to that rubbage, and as you've given me all this, in return I'll give you a tip as is worth a king's money box." "You needn't bother."