said that she was glad
to say she never read anything, he left her in an agitated horror. Lady
Rachel Seddon was very grand and splendid, and frightened Katherine.
She was related to every kind of duke and marquis, and although that
fact did not impress Maggie in the least, it did seem to remove Lady
Rachel into quite another world.

But they were all in another world--Maggie discovered that at once.
They had, of course, every sort of catch-word and allusion and joke
that no one but themselves and the people whom they brought into the
house understood; Katherine was kindness itself. Philip too (he seemed
to Maggie a weak, amiable young man) took a lot of trouble about her,
but they did not belong to her nor she to them.

"And why should they?" said Maggie to herself. "I must look on it as
though I were staying at a delightful hotel and were going on with my
journey very soon."

There was somebody, however, who did not belong any more than Maggie
did, and very soon he became Maggie's constant companion--this was the
Rev. Paul Trenchard, Katherine's cousin.

From the very moment months ago, when Maggie and he had first met in
Katherine's drawing-room, they had been friends. He had liked her,
Maggie felt, at once. She on her side was attracted by a certain
childlike simplicity and innocence. This very quality, she soon saw,
moved the others, Philip and Henry and Mr. Trenchard senior, to
derision. They did not like the Rev. Paul. They chaffed him, and he was
very easily teased, because he was not clever and did not see their
jokes. This put Maggie up in arms in his defence at once. But they had
all the layman's distrust of a parson. They were all polite to him, of
course, and Maggie discovered that in this world politeness was of the
very first importance, so that you really never said what you thought
nor did what you wanted to. They frankly could not understand why
Katherine asked the parson to stay, but because they loved Katherine
they were as nice to him as their natures would allow them to be. Paul
did not apparently notice that they put him outside their life. He was
always genial, laughed a great deal when there WAS no reason to laugh
at all, and told simple little stories in whose effect he profoundly
believed. He was supported in his confidence by his sister Grace, who
obviously adored him. She too was "outside" the family, but she seemed
to be quite happy telling endless stories of Paul's courage and
clevern