d around
him, sniffing like a dog. How he hated the house and everything in it!
Always had ... You could smell that fellow Warlock's trail over
everything. The black cat, Tom, came slipping along, looked for a
moment as though he would rub himself against Mathew's stout legs, then
decided that he would not. Mysterious this place like a well, with its
green shadows. No wonder the poor child had been ill here. At the
thought of her being near to death Mathew felt a choke in his throat.
Poor child, never had any fun all her life and then to die in a green
well like this. And his sisters wouldn't care if she did, hard women,
hard women. Funny how religion made you hard, darn funny. Good thing
he'd been irreligious all his life. Think of his brother Charles! There
was religion for you, living with his cook and preaching to her next
morning. Bad thing religion!

Aunt Anne returned, coming down the stairs with that queer halting gait
of hers.

"Maggie's in the drawing-room," she said. "She'll like to see you."

As they went up, Aunt Anne said: "Be careful with her, Mathew. She's
still very weak. Don't say anything to upset her?"

He mumbled something in his throat. Couldn't trust him. Of course they
couldn't. Never had ... Fine sort of sisters they were.

Maggie was sitting by the fire, a shawl over her shoulders. By God, but
she looked ill. Mathew had another gulp in his throat. Poor kid, but
she did look ill. Poor kid, poor kid.

"Sorry you've been bad, Maggie," he said.

She looked up, smiling with pleasure, when she saw who it was. Yes, she
was really pleased to see him. But how different a smile from the old
one! No blood behind it, none of that old Maggie determination. He was
filled with compassion. He took a chair close beside her and sat down,
leaning towards her, his large rather sheepish eye gazing at her.

"What's been the matter?" he asked.

"I don't know," Maggie said. "I was suddenly ill one day, and after
that I didn't know any more for weeks. But I'm much better now."

"Well, I'm delighted to hear that anyway," he said heartily. He was
determined to cheer her up. "You'll be as right as rain presently."

"Of course I shall. I've felt so lazy, as though I didn't want to do
anything. Now I must stir myself."

"Have the old women been good to you?" he asked, dropping his voice.

"Very," she answered.

"Not bothering you about all their religious tommy-rot?"

She looked down at her hands.

"No,"