ee whether Maggie were not there in the room watching her. She hated
her now with terror that was partly fear for her own safety, partly
love and jealousy for Paul, partly outraged modesty and tradition,
partly sheer panic.

She had, as yet, said very little to Paul. She waited the right moment.
Maggie's absence showed her how deep and devastating this fear had
been. She saw that it embraced the whole life of Paul and herself in
Skeaton. She had grown fond of Skeaton; she was a woman who would
inevitably care for anything when she had become thoroughly accustomed
to its ways and was assured that it would do her no harm.

She liked the shops and the woods, the sand and the sea. Above all, she
adored the Church. During a large part of every day she was there,
pottering about, talking to the caretaker, poking her nose into the
hymn-books to see whether the choir-boys had drawn pictures in them,
rubbing the brasses, making tidy the vestry. The house too she loved,
and the garden and the bottles on the wall. She might have known that
she was not popular in the place, she cannot have failed to realise
that she had no woman friend and that she was seldom invited to dinner.
This did not matter to her. Her affections--and they were very real and
genuine--were all for her brother. Had she Paul she wanted no one else.
That was enough.

And now it might be that they would have to leave the place. Already
the talk about Maggie was intolerable. Grace heard it on every side.
After Mathew Cardinal's visit the talk rose to a shriek. Grace knew
that those sudden silences on her entrance into the room meant lively
and excited discussion. "How terrible for the poor rector!" "Such an
odd girl--taken out of the slums." "Yes, quite drunk. He knocked Mrs.
Maxse down." "Oh I assure you that she went to see Caroline Purdie the
very day after. She did indeed ..."

Yes. Grace knew all about it. Unless things changed Paul would have to
go. His life was ruined by this girl.

Nevertheless for a whole happy week the world seemed to sink back into
its old accustomed apathy. The very house seemed to take on its old
atmosphere. Paul came out of his study and went about paying calls.
That hour, from six to seven, when he was at home to his parishioners
seemed once again to be crowded with anxious old women and men out of
work and girls in trouble. He took Grace with him on his rounds. Every
one was very friendly. Grace was able to reassume some of he