"It makes one feel rather shivery," said Maggie.
"Now you must see our lectern," said Paul eagerly.
And so it continued. There was apparently a great deal to be said
about the Lectern, and then about the Choir-Screen, and then about
the Reredos, and then about the Pulpit, and then about the Vestry,
and then about the Collecting-Box for the Poor, and then about the
Hassocks, and finally about the Graveyard . . . To all this Maggie
listened and hoped that she made the proper answers, but the truth
of the matter was that she was cold and dismayed. The Chapel had
been ugly enough, but behind its ugliness there had been life; now
with the Church as with the house there was no life visible. Paul,
putting his hand on her shoulder, said:
"Here, darling, will be the centre of our lives. This is our temple.
Round this building all our happiness will revolve."
"Yes, dear," said Maggie. She was taken then for a little walk. They
went down Ivy Road and into Skeaton High Street. Here were the
shops. Mr. Bloods, the bookseller's, Tunstall the butcher, Toogood
the grocer, Father the draper, Minster the picture-dealer, Harcourt
the haberdasher, and so on.
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