Father thinks they're wrong and so does Mother say she does, although I know she likes them, really; but any way that doesn't matter because I never have a moment to myself--sitting at home sewing, that's the way I spend my days, Mr.Crashaw."It was the very last way she really spent them, as Maggie perfectly well knew.It is not to be supposed that Mr.Crashaw either was deceived.However, he gave a wicked wink with the eye that was least rheumatic and said something about "a beautiful young lady like Miss Smith wasted on sewing and darning," and Caroline smiled and said something about "one day perhaps"--and Aunt Anne looked remotely benevolent.What did she think of all this, Maggie wondered? What did she think of her great preacher, her prophet, wasting the few hours of life that remained to him over such a business? They had some secret understanding, perhaps, as though they said to one another, "We know, you and I, what are our real intentions beneath all this.We only do what we must."Understanding or no, Mr.Crashaw sprang up with unexpected activity when Caroline departed and announced his intention of conducting her to her door.He made his adieus and then hobbled along after the rose-coloured silk as though this was his last chance of warming his hands at the flame of life.
When they were gone, Aunt Anne said:
"I am going back to bed, Maggie, dear.Martha will send me up some supper later.Elizabeth has gone to Lambeth to see a friend, so make yourself busy until seven, dear.If I want anything I'll ring."When she was left alone in the darkening room she stood there thinking.Why should she not go out and find Martin? She did not care what any one thought.She would go to his house and ask for him.She had waited and waited...She wanted him so, she wanted him so desperately!