knowing him as she did, she was afraid
of his prosperity. She had never in her life realised so clearly as she
did now that he was a wicked old man--and still she was glad to see
him. He was an odd enough creature in that room, and that, she was
aware, pleased her.

"Well, my dear," he said very genially, as though they met again after
an hour's parting, "how are you? I'm very glad to see you--looking so
well too. And quite smart. Your aunts dressed you up. I thought I must
look at you. I'm staying just round the corner, and my first thought
was 'I wonder how she's getting on in all that tom-foolery. You bet
she's keeping her head.' And so you are. One can see at a glance."

She went up to him, kissed him, and smelt whisky and some scent that
had geraniums in it. He put his arm round her, with his old unsteady
gesture, and held her to him for a moment, then patted her back with
his large, soft hand.

"Your aunt's a long time. I've been waiting half an hour."

"They've been to some meeting." She stood looking at him with her fine
steady gaze that had always made him afraid of her, and did so, to his
own surprise, again now. He had thought that his clothes would have
saved him from that; his fingers felt at his button-hole. Looking at
him she said:

"Uncle, I want to get away--out of this--at once. No, they aren't
horrid to me. Every one's been very kind. But I'm afraid of it all--of
never getting out of it--and I want to be independent ..." She stopped
with a little breathless gasp because she heard the hall-door close.
"Ah, they're here! Don't tell them anything. We'll talk afterwards ..."

His eyes glittered with satisfaction. "I knew you would, my dear. I
knew you wouldn't be able to stand it ... I'll get you out of it ...
Trust me!"

The door opened and Aunt Anne came in. She had been prepared by Martha
for her visitor, and she came forward to him now with the dignity and
kindly patronage of some lady abbess receiving the miscreant and
boorish yokel of a neighbouring village. And yet how fine she was! As
Maggie watched her, she thought of what she would give to have some of
that self-command and dignity and decision. Was it her religion that
gave her that? Or only her own self-satisfaction? No; there was
something behind Aunt Anne, something stronger than she, something that
Mr. Warlock also knew ... and it was this something that Uncle Mathew
met with his own hostility as he looked up now at his sister and