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e decided that it was because she herself had made the suggestion。 Dear Paul； he was always so eager to fall in with any of her proposals。
Her mind misgave her a little when she saw that he was really in love。 What could he see in that plain； gauche； uncharming creature？ See something he undoubtedly did。 However； that would wear off very quickly。 The Skeaton atmosphere was against romance and Paul was too lazy to be in love very long。 Once or twice in the weeks before the wedding Grace's suspicions were aroused。
Maggie seemed to be an utter little heathen； also it appeared that she had had some strange love affair that she had taken so seriously as actually to be ill over it。 That was odd and a little alarming； but the child was very young； and once married…there she'd be； so to speak！
It was not； in fact； until that evening of her arrival in Skeaton that she was seriously alarmed。 To say that that first ten minutes in Paul's study alarmed her is to put it mildly indeed。 As she looked at the place where her mother's portrait had been； as she stared at the trembling Mitch cowering against Maggie's dress； she experienced the most terrifying； shattering upheaval since the day when as a little girl of six she had been faced as she had fancied； with the dripping ghost of her great…uncle William。 Not at once； however； was the battle to begin。 Maggie gave way about everything。 She gave way at first because she was so confident of getting what she wanted later on。 She never conceived that she was not to have final power in her own house； Paul had as yet denied her nothing。 She moved the pictures and the pots and the crochet work down from the attic and replaced them where they had been…or； nearly replaced them。 She found it already rather amusing to puzzle Grace by changing their positions from day to day so that Grace was bewildered and perplexed。
Grace said nothingonly solidly and with panting noises （she suffered from shortness of breath） plodded up and down the house； reassuring herself that all her treasures were safe。
Maggie； in fact； enjoyed herself during the weeks immediately following Grace's return。 Paul seemed tranquil and happy； there were no signs of fresh outbreaks of the strange passion that had so lately frightened her。 Maggie herself found her duties in connection with the Church and the house easier than she had expected。 Every one seemed very friendly。 Grace chattered on with her aimless histories of unimportant events and patted Maggie's hand and smiled a great deal。 Surely all was very well。 Perhaps this was the life for which Maggie was intended。
And that other life began to be dim and faint…even Martin was a little hidden and mysterious。 Strangely she was glad of that； the only way that this could be carried through was by keeping the other out of it。 Would the two worlds mingle？ Would the faces and voices of those spirits be seen and heard again？ Would they leave Maggie now or plan to steal her back？ The whole future of her life depended on the answer to that 。 。 。
During those weeks she investigated Skeaton very thoroughly。 She found that her Skeaton； the Skeaton of Fashion and the Church； was a very small affair consisting of two rows of villas； some detached houses that trickled into the country； and a little clump of villas on a hill over the sea beyond the town。 There were not more than fifty souls all told in this regiment of Fashion； and the leaders of the fifty were Mrs。 Constantine； Mrs。 Maxse； Miss Purves； a Mrs。 Tempest （a large black tragic creature）； and Miss Grace Trenchard… and they had for their male supporters Colonel Maxse； Mr。 William Tempest； a Mr。 Purdie （rich and idle）； and the Reverend Paul。 Maggie discovered that the manners； habits； and even voices and gestures of this sacred Fifty were all the same。 The only question upon which they divided was one of residence。 The richer and finer division spent several weeks of the winter abroad in places like Nice and Cannes； and the poorer contingent took their holiday from Skeaton in the summer in Glebeshire or the Lake District。 The Constantines and the Maxses were very fine indeed because they went both to Cannes in the winter and Scotland in the summer。 It was wonderful； considering how often Mrs。 Constantine was away from Skeaton； how solemn and awe…inspiring an impression she made and retained in the Skeaton world。 Maggie discovered that unless you had a large house with independent grounds outside the town it was impossible to remain in Skeaton during the summer months。 Oh！ the trippers！ 。 。 。Oh！ the trippers！ Yes； they were terrible…swallowed up the sands； eggshells； niggers； pierrots； bathing…machines； vulgarity； moonlight embracing； noise； sand； and dust。 If you were any one at all you did not stay in Skeaton during the summer months…unless； as I have said； you were so grand that you could disregard it altogether。
It happened that these weeks were wet and windy and Maggie was blown about from one end of the town to the other。 There could be no denying that it was grim and ugly under these conditions。 It might be that when the spring came there would be flowers in the gardens and the trees would break out into fresh green and the sands would gleam with mother…of…pearl and the sea would glitter with sunshine。 All that perhaps would come。 Meanwhile there was not a house that was not hideous； the wind tore screaming down the long beaches carrying with it a flurry of tempestuous rain； whilst the sea itself moved in sluggish oily coils； dirt…grey to the grey horizon。 Worst of all perhaps were the deserted buildings at other times dedicated to gaiety； ghosts of places they were with torn paper flapping against their sides and the wind tearing at their tin…plated roofs。 Then there was the desolate little station； having； it seemed； no connection with any kind of traffic…and behind all this the woods howled and creaked and whistled； derisive； provocative； the only creatures alive in all that world。
Between the Fashion and the Place the Church stood as a bridge。
Centuries ago； when Skeaton had been the merest hamlet clustered behind the beach； the Church had been there…not the present building； looking； poor thing； as though it were in a perpetual state of scarlet fever； but a shabby humble little chapel close to the sea sheltered by the sandy hill。
The present temple had been built about 1870 and was considered very satisfactory。 It was solid and free from draughts and took the central heating very well。 The graveyard also was new and shiny； with no bones in it remoter than the memories of the present generation could compass。 The church clock was a very late addition …put up by subscription five years ago…and its clamour was so up to date and smart that it was a cross between the whistle of a steam… engine and a rich and prosperous dinner…bell。
All this was rightly felt to be very satisfactory。 As Miss Purves said： 〃So far as the dear Church goes； no one had any right to complain about anything。〃
When Maggie had first arrived in Skeaton her duties with regard to the Church were made quite plain to her。 She was expected to take one of the classes in Sunday school； to attend Choir practice on Friday evening； to be on the Committees for Old Women's Comforts； Our Brave Lads' Guild； and the Girls' Friendly Society； to look after the flowers for the Altar； and to attend Paul's Bible Class on Wednesdays。
She had no objection to any of these things…they were； after all； part of her 〃job。〃 She found that they amused her； and her life must be full； full； full。〃 No time to thinkNo time to think；〃 some little voice far； far within her cried。 But on Grace's return difficulties at once arose。 Grace had； hitherto； done all these things。 She had； as she called it； 〃Played a large part in the life of our Church。〃 She was bored with them all； the Choir practices； the Committees； the Altar flowers； and the rest； she was only too pleased that Maggie should do the hard workit was quite fair that she； Grace； should have a rest。 At the same time she did not at all want to surrender the power that doing these things had given her。 She did not wish Maggie to take her place； but she wanted her to support the burden…very difficult this especially if you are not good at 〃thinking things out。〃
Grace never could 〃think things out。〃 It seemed as though her thoughts loved wilfully to tease and confuse her。 Then when she was completely tangled； and bewildered； her temper rose； slowly； stealthily； but with a mighty force behind it； suddenly as a flood bursts the walls that have been trying to resist it； it would sweep the chambers of her mind； submerging； drowning the flock of panic… stricken little ideas。
She then would 〃lose her temper〃 so much to her own surprise that she at once decided that some one else must be responsible。 A few days after her return she decided that she 〃must not let these things go；〃 so she told Maggie that she would attend the Committee of Old Women's Comforts and be responsible for the Choir practice。 But on her return to these functions she found that she was bored and tired and cross； they were really intolerable； she had been doing them for years and years and years。 It was too bad that Maggie should suffer her