fading light a large pink poster attracted
Maggie's attention. She went close to it and read the announcement of
the Revival services.

When she read the names of Thurston and Mr. Crashaw and Miss Avies it
seemed to her incredible, and then at the same time as something that
she had always expected.

"Oh," she cried, "it's coming here!" She was strangely startled as
though the sign of Thurston's name was strange forewarning.

"What's coming?" asked Miss Toms.

She read the notice.

"I don't know what you think," said Miss Toms, "but that kind of
thing's humbug if you ask me."

"Oh!" Maggie cried. "It's so strange. I knew those people in London. I
used to go to their services. And now they're coming here!"

She could not explain to Miss Toms the mysterious assurance that she
had of the way that her former world was drawing near to her again. She
could see now that never for a moment since her arrival in Skeaton had
it let her alone, slowly invading her, bit by bit driving in upon her,
forcing her to retire ...

It was quite dark now. Because it was Sunday evening the shops were
closed. Only behind some of the curtained windows dim lights burned.
Very clearly the sea could be heard breaking upon the shore. The last
note of the bell from the Methodist Chapel echoed across the roofs and
stones.

"Good-night," said Miss Toms.

"Good-night," said Maggie.

She turned back towards home hearing, as she went, Thurston's voice,
seeing beyond all the thick shadow of Martin's body, keeping pace with
her, as it seemed, step by step with her as she went.

She turned into the Rectory drive. She heard with a startled shiver the
long gate swing screaming behind her, she could smell very faintly the
leaves of the damp cold laurel bushes that pressed close in upon her.
It was as though some one were walking with her and whispering in her
ear: "They're coming! They're coming! They've got you! They've got you!"

She opened the hall door; the hall was all dark; some one was there.
Maggie gave a little cry. A match was struck and revealed the white
face of Grace. The two women stared at one another.

Grace had returned from Church; she was wearing her ugly black hat with
the red velvet.

"It's all right," said Maggie, "I've been for a walk."

"Oh--I didn't know," gasped Grace, still staring. "I thought--yes, of
course. Fancy, you've been for a walk!"

Still staring as though she could keep Maggie at bay only by the power