ortunate, from the beginning one might say, but I'm sure
it's not been any one's fault exactly. What I mean is that these things
never are ... No, they aren't really. I expect we all want a change."

"What are you frightened of me for, Grace," asked Maggie.

Grace started as though Maggie had indeed dropped a bomb at her feet.
She looked up at Maggie, wildly, her eyes staring about the room as
though she were looking for some exit of escape.

"Frightened?" she repeated.

"Yes, you are," said Maggie. "That's what worries me most. No one's
ever been frightened of me before--at least I don't think any one has."
Maggie laughed. "Why, Grace, it seems so funny any one being frightened
of me. I couldn't hurt any one if I wanted to, and I'm sure I never
want to unless it's Mrs. Maxse. Be angry with me as much as you like,
Grace, but don't be frightened of me. Why, that's ridiculous!"

It was the worst word to have chosen. Grace flushed a dull unwholesome
purple.

"I'm sorry you think me ridiculous, Maggie," she said. "Perhaps I am.
I'm sure I don't know. Yes, perhaps I am. What I mean is that what's
ridiculous to one is not ridiculous to another. You're a strange girl,
Maggie, and you and I will never get on. No, never. But all I ask is
that you should make Paul happy. That is enough for me. I care for
nothing else. He isn't very happy just now. What I mean is that any one
can see he isn't eating his meals properly."

"Oh, Grace," cried Maggie. "I didn't mean that you were ridiculous. I
meant that any one being frightened of me was ridiculous. Anyway, I'm
very sorry that I've made you and Paul unhappy. That's all."

She turned and went.

It was the most lovely of April days, soft, primrose-coloured, the
sea-breeze gently tempered by mist-veiled sun. Maggie sat at her
bedroom window overlooking the drive and the blue-grey field that ran
to the woods. She knew that there would be no difficulty about her
escape to the Revival meeting. Paul had arranged that there should be
an evening service at the Church at the same hour, an act of rather
Un-Christian defiance. Maggie sat there, looking down in a condition of
strange bewildering excitement on to the laurel bushes. It was
wonderful to think that in another half-hour she would see Miss Avies
once more, hear those wild hymns again, catch the stridency of
Thurston's voice; all these things spoke of Martin. She felt as though
he were stealing towards her out of the dusk, it