omical woman in London, but was also, thanks to
her upbringing, one of the most sober and virtuous, and if Miss
Cardinal had anything to say against--

Oh no! Aunt Elizabeth had nothing to say against, only this one pound,
three shillings--

Well, the cook couldn't help that; she wasn't one to let a penny out of
her fingers where it shouldn't go.

So the morning hummed along; luncheon-time came, the silver was all
cleaned, the stockings changed, and there was roast chicken. Thomas,
with his wicked eyes, came slowly, majestically upon the scene--but
even he was not sinister to-day, being interested in his own greed
rather than other persons' sins.

All this time Maggie refused to think. Martin would come, then she
would see.

Martin ... Martin ... Martin ... She went up into her bedroom and
whispered the name over and over to herself whilst she tried to mend
her stocking. She flung the stocking down and gazed out of the window
on to a world that was all golden cloud and racing watery blue. The
roofs swam like floating carpets in the sun, detached from the brick
and mortar beneath them, carried by the racing clouds. It was only at
that sudden gaze that she realised that she was a prisoner. All her
alarm came back to her.

"Why can't I go out? I'll put on my hat and just walk out. No one can
stop me. No one ..."

But she knew that she could not. Something more must happen first. She
turned from the window with a little shudder, finished very clumsily
her stocking, and as the cuckoo clock struck halfpast three went down
to the drawing-room.

There to her surprise, she found Caroline Smith. The events of the last
few days had, a little, dimmed Caroline from her memory. She had not
seen Caroline for a fortnight. She did not know that she especially
wanted to see Caroline now. However, it was very certain that Caroline
wanted to see her. The young woman was dressed in rose-coloured silk
that stood out from her slim body almost like a crinoline, and she had
a straw funnel-shaped hat with roses perched on the side of her lovely
head. She kissed Maggie many times, and then sitting down with her
little sharp black shoes poked out in front of her, she ran on:

"It's been too bad, Maggie, dear; it's simply ages since we had a
moment, isn't it, but it hasn't been my fault. Father's been
ill--bronchitis--and I've had to help Mother. Father's been so happy,
he's just been able to lie in bed for days and think about God.