As she fell asleep she realised that this was only the second time in all her life that she had been in a train.Some one bawled in her car "Skeaton! Skeaton!" and she looked up to find a goat-faced porter gazing at her through the window.She was on a storm-driven platform, her husband's arm was through hers, she was being helped into an old faded cab.Now they were driving down a hill, under a railway-arch, along a road with villas and trees, trees and villas, and then villas alone.What a wind! The bare branches were in a frenzy, and from almost every villa blew little pennons of white curtains."They like to have their windows open any way," she thought.Paul said very little; he was obviously nervous of how she would take it all.She took it all very well.
"What pretty houses!" she said."And here are the shops!"Only a few--a sweet-shop, a grocer's, a stationer's with "Simpson's Library" on the door, a post-office.
"The suburbs," said Paul.
What a wind! It rolled up the road like a leaping carpet, you could almost see its folds and creases.No one about--not a living soul.
"The cab I ordered never came.Lucky thing there was one there,"said Paul.
Not a soul about.Does any one live here? She could not see much through the window, and she could hear nothing because the glass rattled so.
"Here we are!" The cab stopped with a jerk.Here they were then.Agate swung to behind them, there was a little drive with bushes on either side of it and then the house.
Not a very handsome house, Maggie thought.A dull square grey with chimneys like ears in exactly the right places.Some pieces of paper were whirled up and down by the wind, they danced about the horse's feet.She noticed that the door-handles needed polishing.Acavernous hall, a young girl with untidy hair and a yelping dog received them.
"That's Mitch!" said Paul."Dear old Mitch.How are you, dear old fellow? Down Mitch! Down! There's a good dog."The young girl was terrified of Maggie.She gulped through her nose.
"I've put tea in the study, sir," she said.
"Tea at once, little woman, eh?" said Paul."I'm dying for some.
Thank you, Emily.All well? That's right.Dear, dear, It IS nice to be home again."Yes, he was nervous, poor Paul.She felt a great tenderness for him, but she could not say the right words.She should have said: "It is nice," but it was not.The hall was so cold and dark, and all over the house windows were rattling.
They went straight into the study.What a room! It reminded Maggie at once, in its untidiness and discomfort, of her father's, study, and that thought struck a chill into her very heart, so that she had to pause for a moment and control herself.There were piles of newspapers heaped up against the shelves; books run to the ceiling, old, old books with the covers tumbling off them.On the stone mantelpiece was a perfect litter--old pipes, bundles of letters, a ball of string, some yellow photographs, a crucifix and a small plant dead and shrivelled in its pot.
"Now then, darling.Hurrah for some tea!"She poured it out and he watched her in an ecstasy.Strangely she began to be frightened and a little breathless, as though the walls of the room were slowly closing in.The tea had been standing a long time, it was very strong and chill.
The house was a firing-ground of rattle and whirs, but there were no human sounds anywhere.There was dust all over the room.
They had said nothing for some time.
He spoke suddenly, his voice husky and awkward, as though he were trying a new voice for the first time.
"Maggie!" he said."Don't sit so far away.Come over here."She crossed over to him.He, with an arm that seemed to be suddenly of iron, pulled her on to his knee.She was rebellious.Her whole body stiffened.She did not want this, she did not want this! Some voice within cried out: "Take care! Take care!"...He pressed her close to him; he kissed her furiously, savagely, her eyes, her mouth, her cheek.She could feel his heart pounding beneath his clothes like a savage beast.His hands were all about her; he was crushing her so that she was hurt, but she did not feel that at all;there was something else...
With all her might she fought down her resistance.This was her duty.She must obey.But something desolate and utterly, utterly lonely crept away and cried bitterly, watching her surrender.
