We couldn't get on without you.All that Maggie meant was that it takes time to settle down.So it does.""That isn't all I meant," said Maggie slowly."I meant that I'm not just a child as you both think.I've got a life of my own and ideas of my own.I'll give way to you both in lots of things so long as it makes you happy, but you're not--you're not going to shut me up as you'd like to do to Mr.Toms."Perhaps both Grace and Paul had a sharp troubling impression of having caught some strange creature against their will.Maggie had risen from the table and stood for the moment by the door facing them, her short hair, standing thick about her head, contrasting with her thick white neck, her body balanced clumsily but with great strength, like that of a boy who has not yet grown to his full maturity.She tossed her head back in a way that she had and was gone.
The Caroline affair was of another sort.Some days after Christmas, Maggie went to have tea with Caroline.She did not enjoy it at all.
She felt at once that there was something wrong with the house.It was full of paintings in big gold frames, looking-glasses, and marble statues, and there was a large garden that had an artificial look of having been painted by some clever artist in the course of a night.Maggie did not pay a long visit.There were a number of men present; there was also a gramophone, and after tea they turned up the carpet in the dining-room and danced.
Caroline, in spite of her noise and laughter, did not seem to Maggie to be happy.She introduced her for a moment to the master of the house, a stout red-faced man who looked as though he had lost something very precious, but was too sleepy to search for it.He called Caroline "Sweet," and she treated him with patronage and contempt.Maggie came away distressed, and she was not surprised to hear, a day or two later, from Grace that Mrs.Purdie was "fast" and had been rude to Mrs.Constantine.
One day early in the spring Grace announced that Maggie ought not to go and see Mrs.Purdie any more."There are all sorts of stories,"said Grace."People say--Oh, well, never mind.They have dancing on Sunday.""But she's an old friend of mine," said Maggie.
"You have others to think of beside yourself, Maggie," said Grace.
"And there is the Church."
"She's an old friend of mine," repeated Maggie, her mouth set obstinately.
"I will ask Paul what he thinks," said Grace.
"Please," said Maggie, her colour rising into her cheeks, "don't interfere between Paul and me.I'll speak to him myself."She did.Paul maintained the attitude of indifference that he had adopted during the last six months.
"But would you rather I didn't go?" asked Maggie, aggravated.
"You must use your judgment," said Paul.
"But don't you see that I can't leave a friend just because people are saying nasty things.""There's your position in the parish," said Paul.
"Oh, Paul!" Maggie cried."Don't be so aggravating! Just say what you really think.""I'm sorry I'm aggravating," said Paul patiently.
It was this conversation that determined Maggie.She had been coming, through all the winter months, to a resolution.She must be alone with Paul, she must have things out with him.As the months had gone they had been slipping further and further apart.It had been Paul who had gradually withdrawn into himself.He had been kind and thoughtful but reserved, shy, embarrassed.She understood his trouble, but at her first attempt to force him to speak he escaped and placed Grace between them.Well, this summer should see the end of that.They must know where they stood, and for that they must be alone...
