being set free from its long imprisonment.

As the wine was poured out, Mavis noticed how Mr Ellis's eye caught
Mrs Hamilton's.

The meal was long, elaborate, sumptuous. Mavis wondered when the
procession of toothsome delicacies would stop. She enjoyed herself
immensely; her unaccustomed personal adornment, the cosy room, the
shaded lights, the lace table-cloth, the manner in which the food
was served, above all, the manly, admiring personality of Mr
Williams, all irresistibly appealed to her, largely because the many
joyous instincts of her being had been starved for so long.

She surrendered herself body and soul to the exhilaration of the
moment, as if conscious that it was all too good to be true; that
her surroundings might any moment fade; that her gay clothes would
disappear, and that she would again find herself, heartsick and
weary, in her comfortless little combined room at Mrs Bilkins's. At
the same time, her natural alertness took in everything going on
about her.

As the dinner progressed, she could not help seeing how Mr Ellis's
eyes seemed to awaken from their torpor; but the life that came into
them was such that Mavis much preferred them as they originally
were. They sparkled hungrily; it seemed to the girl as if they had a
fearful, hunted, and, at the same time, eager, unholy look, as if
they sought refuge in some deadly sin in order to escape a far worse
fate. Mavis's and Williams's gaiety was infectious. Ellis frequently
joined in the raillery proceeding between the pair; it was as if
Mavis's youth, comeliness, and charm compelled homage from the