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 Imean 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 was as though, without any reason, she expected to find him at the service...although she knew that he could not be there.
She heard the Church bell begin to ring, then the hall-door opened and Paul came out.He had on his soft black hat, he was carrying his Bible and prayer-book under his arm.He stood, for a moment, beside the hall-door as though he were listening or expecting something.
She had a strange impulse to run down to him; so strong was it that she got up and moved to the door.Then slowly she came back to the window and stood looking down upon him.Suddenly, as though he felt her gaze, he glanced up, saw her, and waved to her.She waved back to him.He turned and walked quickly away, she heard the gate swing, screaming behind him.