t any of
them, she saw them as they were, some happy, some unhappy, some
terrifying, some amusing, all of them dead and passed, grey and thin,
the life gone out of them. Her mind was fixed on the future. What was
it going to be? Would she have money as her uncle had said? Would she
see London and the world? Would she find friends, people who would be
glad to be with her and have her with them? What would her aunts be
like? and so from them, what about all the other members of the family
of whom she had heard? She painted for herself a gay scene in which, at
the door of some great house, a fine gathering of Cardinals waited with
smiles and outstretched hands to welcome her. Then, laughing at herself
as she always did when she had allowed her fancy free rein, she shook
her head. No, it certainly would not be like that. Relations were not
like that. That was not the way to face the world to encourage romantic
dreams. Her uncle, watching her surreptitiously, wondered of what she
was thinking. Her determined treatment of him that afternoon continued
to surprise him. She certainly ought to make her way in the world, but
what a pity that she was so plain. Perhaps if she got some colour into
her cheeks, dressed better, brushed her hair differently--no, her mouth
would always be too large and her nose too small--and her figure was
absurd. Uncle Mathew considered that he was a judge of women.

He rose at last and, rather shamefacedly, said that he should go to
bed. Maggie wondered at the confusion that she detected in him. She
looked at him and he dropped his eyes.

"Good night, Uncle Mathew."

He looked at her then and noticed by her white face and dark-lined eyes
what a strain the day had been to her. He saw again the figure in the
shabby black hat sobbing in the lane. He suddenly put his arms about
her and held her close to him. She noticed that he smelled of whisky,
but she felt his kindness, and putting her hand on his fat shoulder
kissed once more his cheek.

When he had left her, her weariness came suddenly down upon her,
overwhelming her as though the roof had fallen in. The lamp swelled
before her tired eyes as though it had been an evil, unhealthy flower.
The table slid into the chairs and the cold beef leered at the jelly;
the pictures jumped and the clock ran in a mad scurry backwards and
forwards.

She dragged her dazed body up through the silent house to her bedroom,
undressed, was instantly in bed and asleep.