I've always had to, all my
life. It would have been no good doing anything else at home, because
father--"

She pulled herself up. She was not going to defend herself or ask for
pity. She said, speaking finally:

"Yes, I have been out with Martin every day. I went to the theatre with
him, too, and also had tea with him."

Maggie could see Aunt Anne's anger rising higher and higher like water
in a tube. Her voice was hard when she spoke again--she pronounced
judgment:

"We see now that you were right when you said that you had better leave
us. You are free to go as soon as you wish. You have, of course, your
money, but if you care to stay with us until you have found some work
you must now obey our rules. While you remain with us you must not go
out unless my sister or I accompany you." Then her voice changed,
softening a little. She suddenly raised her hands in a gesture of
appeal: "Oh, Maggie, Maggie, turn to God. You have rebelled against
Him. You have refused to listen to His voice. The end of that can be
only misery. He loves, but He also judges. Even now, within a day, a
week, He may come with judgment. Turn to Him, Maggie, not because I
tell you but because of the Truth. Pray with me now that He may help
you and give you strength."

Because she felt that she had indeed treated them badly and must do
just now what they wished, she knelt down on the drawing-room carpet.
Aunt Anne also knelt down, her figure stiff like iron, her raised hands
once again delicate and ghost-like.

"O Lord God," she prayed, "this Thy servant comes to Thee and prays
that Thou wilt give her strength in her struggle with the Evil One. She
has been tempted and is weak, but Thou art strong to save and wilt not
despise the least of these Thy children."

"Come, O Lord the Father, and take Thy daughter into Thy loving care,
and when Thou comest, in all Thy splendour, to redeem the world, I pray
that Thou wilt find her waiting for Thee in holiness and meekness of
heart."

They rose. Maggie's knees were sore with the stiff carpet. The family
group watched her from the wall ironically.

She saw that in spite of the prayer Aunt Anne had not forgiven her. She
stood away from her, and although her voice now was not so hard, it had
lost altogether the tender note that it used to have.

"Now, Maggie, you must promise us that you will not see Martin Warlock
again."

Maggie flushed. "No, aunt, I can't promise that."

"Then we must treat y