They faced
one another across the fireplace like enemies who might have been
lovers; there had been from the very first moment of this meeting a
romantic link between them which had never been defined. They had
never had it out with one another, and they were not going to have
it out now; but Maggie, who was never sentimental, wondered at the
strange mixture of tenderness, pity, affection, irritation and
hostility that she felt.
"Aunt Anne, I'm going away to-morrow," said Maggie.
"To-morrow!" Aunt Anne looked up with her strange hostile arrogance.
"Oh no, Maggie. You're not well yet."
"Mrs. Mark," said Maggie, "the lady I told you about, is coming in a
motor to fetch me. She will take me straight to her house, and then
I shall go to bed."
Aunt Anne said nothing.
"You know that it's better for me to go," said Maggie. "We can't
live together any more after what happened. You and Aunt Elizabeth
have been very very good to me, but you know now that I'm a
disappointment. I haven't ever fitted into the life here. I never
shall."
"The life here is over," said Aunt Anne. "Everything is over--the
house is dead.
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