"Almost a pillar of the throne, as you might say," moaned the poor
woman.
"True enough," murmured her niece.
"A man who, as you might say, has had the eyes of Europe upon him."
"Ah!" sighed Miss Meakin.
"And me, too, who am, as it were, an outpost of blood in this no-
class neighbourhood," continued Mrs Scatchard.
Mavis wondered when she would be able to get away.
"My father was a tax-collector," Mrs Scatchard informed Mavis.
"Indeed!" said the latter.
"And in a most select London suburb. Do you believe in blood?"
"I think so."
"Then you must come here often. Blood is so scarce in North
Kensington."
"Thank you."
"Why not stay and have a bit of dinner?"
"Lunch," corrected Miss Meakin with a frown.
"We've a lovely sheep's heart and turnips," said Mrs Scatchard,
disregarding her niece's pained interruption.
Mavis thanked kindly Mrs Scatchard, but said she must be off. She
was not permitted to go before she promised to let Miss Meakin know
the result of her visit to Mr Napper.
Mavis spent three of her precious pennies in getting to the office
of Mr Keating, which was situated in a tiny court running out of
Holborn.
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