She was a large black and red
woman with clothes that fitted her like a uniform. Her hair was of a
raven gleaming blackness, her cheeks were red, her manner so assured
and commanding that she seemed to Maggie at once like a policeman
directing the traffic. The policeman of Christian Skeaton she was,
and it did not take Maggie two minutes to discover that Paul was
afraid of her. She had a deep bass voice and a hearty laugh.
"I can understand her," thought Maggie, "and I believe she'll
understand me."
Very different Miss Purves. If Mrs. Constantine was the policeman of
Skeaton, Miss Purves was the town-crier. She rang her bell and
announced the news, and also insisted that you should tell her
without delay any item of news that you had collected.
In appearance she was like any old maid whose love of gossip has led
her to abandon her appearance. She had obviously surrendered the
idea of attracting the male, and flung on her clothes--an old black
hat, a grey coat and skirt--with a negligence that showed that she
cared for worthier things. She gave the impression that there was no
time to be lost were one to gather all the things in life worth
hearing.
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