"Forgive me, won't you?"

"Of course."

"May I ask your name?"

"Keeves. Mavis Keeves."

"A good name," muttered the old lady. "Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

Mavis saw her move towards the door; when she reached it, she turned
to smile again to Mavis before going out.

"What a fool I am!" thought Mavis. "If I'd only told her I wanted
work, she'd have helped me to something. What a fool I am!"

Mavis rose as if to follow the kindly old soul; but she was too
late. As she got up, she saw her step into a fine carriage, which,
after the footman had closed the door and mounted the box, had
driven away. Mavis sat helplessly. It seemed as if she were as a
drowning person who had been offered the chance of clutching a
straw, but had refused to take it. There was little likelihood of
her getting a second chance. She must resign herself to the worst.
She had forgotten; one hope was still left, one she had, hitherto,
lost sight of: this to pray to her Heavenly Father, to remind Him
that she, as a human sparrow, was in danger of falling; to implore
succour. Although she had knelt morning and evening at her bedside,
it had lately been more from force of habit than anything else; her