She tied her mind to that,
but behind it was the irritating knowledge that her teeth were
chattering and her knees trembling and that she did not maintain her
courage as a Cardinal should.
As they entered the Chapel the hoarse ugly clock over the door
grunted out half-past eleven. The Chapel seemed on Maggie's entering
it to be half in darkness, there was a thin splutter of gas over the
reading-desk at the far end and some more light by the door, but the
centre of the building was a shadowy pool. Only a few were present,
gathered together in the middle seats below the desk, perhaps in all
a hundred persons. Of these three-quarters were women. The aunts and
Maggie went into their accustomed seat some six rows from the front.
When Maggie rose from her knees and looked about her she recognised
at once that only the Inside Saints were here.
Amongst the men she recognised Mr. Smith, Caroline's father, two old
men, brothers, who had followed Mr. Warlock from their youth, and a
young pale man who had once been to tea with her aunts. Martin she
saw at once was not there.
For some time, perhaps for ten minutes, they all sat in silence, and
only the gruff comment of the clock sounded in the building.
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