that question. It was as though that other
trouble of the scandal were nothing to her compared with this matter of
Maggie's presence. Paul turned and looked at her. She dropped her voice
to a whisper and went on:

"I won't stay with Maggie any more. No, no, no! You must choose, Paul,
between Maggie and me. What I mean is that it simply isn't safe in the
same house with her. You may not have noticed it yourself, but I've
seen it coming on a long time. I have indeed. She isn't right in her
head, and she hates me. She's always hated me. She'd like to do me an
injury. She follows me round the house. She's always watching me, and
now that she thinks that I killed her uncle it's worse. I'm not safe,
Paul, and that's the truth. She hides in my room behind the curtains
waiting for me. It's my safety you've got to consider. It's me or her.
I know she's your wife, but what I mean is that there'll be something
awful happening if you aren't careful."

Grace, as she spoke, was a woman in the very heart of a desperate
panic. Her whole body trembled; her face was transfixed as though she
saw Maggie standing in front of her there with a knife. No one looking
at her could deny that she was in mortal terror--no affectation here.
And Paul loved her. He came over to her and put his arm round her; she
caught hold of his hand, clutched it desperately. When he felt the
trembling of her body beneath his hand his love for her and protective
care of her overwhelmed him.

"Grace, dear, it's all right," he said. "You're exaggerating all this.
Maggie wouldn't hurt a fly--indeed, she wouldn't. She has her faults,
perhaps, but cruelty isn't one of them. You must remember that she's
had a bad time lately losing her aunt and then finding her uncle in
that horrible way. After all, she's only a child. I know that you two
haven't got on well together, and I daresay that it has been very
largely my fault; but you mustn't be frightened like that. No harm
shall come to you so long as I am alive--no harm whatever."

But she stared in front of her, like a woman in a dream, repeating--

"No, no, Paul. Either she goes or I go. She's your wife. She must stay.
Then I must go. I can't stand it; I can't indeed. I'm not sleeping; I'm
not indeed. It isn't fair to ask it. What I mean is that it isn't fair
to me."

Although he had known Grace for years he still believed her threats and
promises. "My sister's an obstinate woman," he would say, although had
he look