uldn't really. But it's as though father wanted
me to believe all the things he believes, so that he could believe them
more himself. Perhaps it's the same with your aunt ..." Then he added,
"But they're sick people. That explains a lot."

"Sick?" asked Maggie.

"Yes. My governor's got heart--awfully bad. He might go off at any
moment if he had a shock. And your aunt--don't you know?"

"No," said Maggie.

"Cancer. They all say so. I thought you'd have known."

"Oh!" Maggie drew in her breath. She shuddered. "Poor Aunt Anne! Oh,
poor Aunt Anne! I didn't know."

She felt a sudden rush of confused emotion. A love for her aunt, desire
to help her, and at the same time shrinking as though she saw the whole
house which had been, from the first, unhappy to her was now diseased
and evil and rotten. The hot life in her body told her against her
moral will that she must escape, and her soul, moving in her and
speaking to her, told her that now, more than ever, she must stay.

"Oh, poor, poor Aunt Anne," she said again.

He moved and put his arm around her. He had meant it simply as a
movement of sympathy and protection, but when he felt the warmth of her
body against his, when he realised how she went to him at once with the
confidence and simplicity of a child, when he felt the hot irregular
beat of her heart, his own heart leapt, his arm was strengthened like a
barrier of iron against the world.

He had one moment of desperate resistance, a voice of protest calling
to him far, far away. His hand touched her neck; he raised her face to
his and kissed her, once gently, kindly, then, passionately again and
again.

She shivered a little, as though surrendering something to him, then
lay quite still in his arms.

"Maggie! Maggie!" he whispered.

Then she raised her head and herself kissed him.

There was a noise on the door. They separated; the door opened and in
the sudden light a figure was visible holding a glass.

For a blind instant Maggie, returning from her other world, thought it
the figure of Mr. Palmer of Rugeley.

It was, of course, Uncle Mathew.

CHAPTER IV

MR. CRASHAW

Uncle Mathew saw Maggie back to her door, kissed her and left her. On
their way home he did not once mention Martin Warlock to her.

He left her as he heard the bolt turn in the door, hurrying away as
though he did not want to be seen. Maggie went in to find old Martha
with her crabbed face watching her sourly. But she di