The man touched his hat and they were off. The woman did not speak at first, being seemingly absorbed in anxious thought. Mavis became conscious of a vague feeling of discomfort like to when--when--she tried to remember when this uneasy feeling had before possessed her. She glanced at her companion; she noticed that the woman's eyes were hard and cold; it was difficult to reconcile their expression with the sentiments she had professed. Then the woman turned to her. "What is your name?" "Mavis Weston Keeves." "My name's Hamilton; it's really West-Hamilton, but I'm known as Mrs Hamilton. How old are you?" "Eighteen. I'm nineteen in three months." "Tell me more of yourself." Mavis briefly told her story; as she finished, the car drew up at a post-office. Mrs Hamilton scanned Mavis's face closely before getting out. "I shan't be a moment; it's only to someone who's coming to dinner." Mavis, left alone in the motor, wondered at the strangeness of the adventure. She knew that Mrs Hamilton was scarcely a gentlewoman--even in the broad interpretation nowadays given to the word. But it was not this so much as the fact of her having such hard eyes which perplexed the girl. She had little time to dwell on this matter, as, in a very few moments, Mrs Hamilton was again beside Mavis, and they were speeding up Oxford Street. "The fact is I live alone," said Mrs Hamilton. "I am in need of a companion, young and nice-looking, like yourself. I wonder if you'd care for the job." "I wonder if you'd care to have me." "I entertain a good deal, mostly gentlemen; two gentlemen are coming to dinner to-night." "But you don't expect me--?" "Why not?" "But my clothes." "Is that all? I've some things that will suit you down to the ground." "You're very kind," said Mavis, as the motor, having turned into Regent Street, whizzed past the Langham Hotel. "You play and sing?" asked Mrs Hamilton. "A little." "That always helps. And as to terms, if we get along well together, you'll be grateful to me till the day of your death." Although the words were spoken without a suspicion of feeling, Mavis replied: "I'm sure I shall." "Here we are!" said Mrs Hamilton. Mavis was much surprised that no word had been said about references. A man-servant opened the door. Mavis passed in with Mrs Hamilton, for whom a telegram was waiting. "Dinner at eight to-night, Jarvis; an hour earlier than usual. Lay for four," said Jarvis's mistress, after opening the telegram. "Yes, ma'am," replied Jarvis, as Mrs Hamilton walked upstairs to the drawing-room, followed by Mavis.