She was fierce and hostile and ineffectual, one felt, so long
as she was by herself. Maggie did not, of course, notice all this at
the time, but in after years she always looked back on the pale,
thin, highly-strung Miss Avies as the motive of most of the events
that followed this particular evening. It was as though she felt
that Miss Avies' weight, not enough in itself to effect any result,
when thrown into the balance just turned everything in one
direction. It had that result, at any rate, upon Maggie herself.
She soon lost, however, consideration of Miss Avies in the wider
observation of the Chapel and its congregation. It was, as it had
been on the occasion of her first visit to it, stuffy, smelling of
gas and brick and painted wood, ugly in its bareness and
unresponsiveness--and, nevertheless, exciting. The interior of the
building had the air of one who has watched some most unusual
happenings and expects very shortly to watch them again. Even the
harmonium seemed to prick up its wooden ears in anticipation. And
to-night the congregation thrilled also with breathless expectation.
As Maggie looked round upon them she could see that they were
throbbing with the anticipation of some almost sensuous delight.
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