whether I'm good or bad... . What's the use of my being here
in London and never seeing anything. I'll go into a shop or something
and work my fingers to the bone. They SHAN'T catch me. They SHAN'T ...
If Uncle Mathew were here ..."

She broke off suddenly, breathless, staring at Mr. Magnus as though she
had not been aware until now that he was in the room. To say that her
outburst astonished him was to put it very mildly indeed. She had
always been so quiet and restrained; she had seemed so happy and
tranquil.

He blushed, pushed his spectacles with his fingers, then finally
stammered:

"I'd no idea--that--that you hated it so much."

She was quiet and composed again. "I don't hate it," she answered very
calmly. "Only they shan't tie me--no one shall. And in the house it's
as though some one were watching behind every door. It used to be just
the same at home. When people think a lot about religion something
seems to get into a place. Why, truly, Mr. Magnus, I've wondered once
or twice lately, in spite of myself, whether they mayn't be right after
all and God's going to come in a chariot and set the world on fire."

"It sounds silly, but when you see the way Aunt Anne and Mr. Warlock
believe things it almost makes them true."

Maggie finally added: "You mustn't think me selfish. I'm very very
grateful for all their kindness. I'm very happy. It's all splendid
compared with what life used to be at home--but I fancy sometimes that
the aunts think I'm just going to settle down here for ever and be like
them--and I'm not--I'm afraid of Aunt Anne."

"Afraid of her?" said Mr. Magnus. "Ah, you mustn't be that."

"She has some plan in her head. I know she has--"

"No plan is set except for your good," said Mr. Magnus.

"I don't want any one to bother about my good," answered Maggie. "I can
look after that for myself."

This little conversation revealed Maggie to Mr. Magnus in an entirely
new light. He had thought her, until now, a good simple girl, entirely
ignorant of life and eager to be taught. The sudden discovery of her
independence distressed him. He left the house that afternoon with many
new points to consider.

Meanwhile Maggie had kept from him the true root of the matter. She had
said nothing of Martin Warlock. She had said nothing, even to herself,
about him, and yet the consciousness of her meeting with him was always
with her as a fire smoulders in the hold of a ship, burning stealthily
through the