"I don't know any young men," remarked Mavis.

"Hadn't you better be quick and pick up one?" asked Miss Impett.

"I don't care to make chance acquaintances," answered Mavis.

To her surprise, her remark aroused the other girls' ire; they
looked at Mavis and then at one another in astonishment.

"I defy anyone to prove that I'm not a lady," cried Miss Impett, as
she bounced out of the room.

"I'm as good as you any day," declared Miss Potter, as she went to
the door.

"Yes, that we are," cried Miss Allen defiantly, as she joined her
friend.

Mavis sat wearily on her bed. Her head ached; her body seemed
incapable of further effort; worst of all, her soul was steeped in
despair.

"What have I done, oh, what have I done to deserve this misery?" she
cried out.

This outburst strengthened her: needs cried for satisfaction in her
body, the chief of these being movement and air. She walked to the
window and looked out on the cloudless September night; there was a
chill in the air, imparting to its sweetness a touch of austerity.