Oscar turned to grin at his mother, whilst Mavis, with all her
maternal instinct aroused, avoided looking at or thinking of the
idiot as much as possible.
Mrs Gowler waxed eloquent on the subject of her Oscar, to whom she
was apparently devoted. She was just telling Mavis how he liked to
amuse himself by torturing the cat, when a sharp cry penetrated into
the kitchen, as if coming from the neighbourhood of the front door.
"Bella's coming on," she said, as she caught up an apron before
leaving the kitchen. "Be nice to the lady, Oscar, and see her out,
like the gent you are," cried Mrs Gowler, before shutting the door.
Alone with the grinning idiot, Mavis shut her eyes, the while she
finished her tea. She did not want her baby to be in any way
affected by the acute mental discomfort occasioned to its mother by
the presence of Mrs Gowler's son, a contingency she had understood
could easily be a reality. When she looked about for her hat and
umbrella, she discovered, to her great relief, that she was alone,
Oscar having apparently slipped out after his mother, the kitchen
door being ajar. Mavis drew on her gloves, stopped her ears with her
fingers as she passed along the passage, opened the door and hurried
away from the house.
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