So, for the moment, these people, the house and the Church, fitted in her World.For the rest of the fortnight she was so busy that she never went on to the beach nor into the woods.She shopped every morning, feeling very old and grown-up, she went to tea with Mrs.
Constantine and Mrs.Maxse, and she sat on Paul's knee whenever she thought that he would like her to.She sat on Paul's knee, but that did not mean that, in real intimacy, they approached any nearer to one another.During those days they stared at one another like children on different sides of a fence.They were definitely postponing settlement, and with every day Maggie grew more restless and uneasy.She wanted back that old friendly comradeship that there had been before their marriage.He seemed now to have lost altogether that attitude to her.Then on the very day of Grace's return the storm broke.It was tea-time and they were having it, as usual, in his dusty study.They were sitting someway apart--Paul in the old leather armchair by the fire, his thick body stretched out, his cheerful good-humoured face puckered and peevish.
Maggie stood up, looking at him.
"Paul, what's the matter?" she asked.
"Matter," he repeated."Nothing."
"Oh yes, there is...You're cross with me.""No, I'm not.What an absurd idea!" He moved restlessly, turning half away, not looking at her.She came close up to him.
"Look here, Paul.There is something the matter.We haven't been married a fortnight yet and you're unhappy.Whatever else we married for we married because we were going to be friends.So you've just got to tell me what the trouble is.""I've got my sermon to prepare," he said, not looking at her, but half rising in his chair."You'd better go, darling.""I'm not going to," she answered, "until you've told me why you're worrying."He got up slowly and seemed then as though he were going to pass her.Suddenly he turned, flung his arms round her, catching her, crushing her in his arms, kissing her wildly.