The room was draughty and close and had a confused smell of oil-
cloth and geraniums, and Maggie knew that soon she would have a
headache. She fancied that already the atmosphere was influencing
the meeting. From where she sat she could see a succession of side
faces, and it was strange what a hungry, appealing look these pale
cheeks and staring eyes had. Hungry! Yes, that's what they all were.
She thought, fantastically, for a moment, of poor Mr. Magnus's
Treasure Hunters, and she seemed to see the whole of this company in
a raft drifting in mid-ocean, not a sail in sight and the last
ship's biscuit gone.
They were not, taken altogether, a very fine collection, old maids
and young girls, many of them apparently of the servant class, one
or two sitting with open mouths and a vacancy of expression that
seemed to demand a conjurer with a rabbit and a hat. Some faces were
of the true fanatic cast, lit with the glow of an expectancy and a
hope that no rational experience had ever actually justified. One
girl, whom Maggie had seen with Aunt Anne on some occasion, had
especially this prophetic anticipation in the whole pose of her body
as she bent forward a little, her elbows on her knees her chin on
her hands, gazing with wide burning eyes at Miss Avies.
Pages:
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492