If Mrs. Constantine stood for the police and Miss Purves the town-
crier, Mrs. Maxse certainly represented Society. She was dressed
beautifully, and she must have been very pretty once. Her hair was
now grey, but her cheeks had still a charming bloom. She was
delicate and fragile, rustling and scented, with a beautiful string
of pearls round her neck (this, in the daytime, Maggie thought very
odd), and a large black hat with a sweeping feather. Her voice was a
little sad, a little regretful, as though she knew that her
beautiful youth was gone and was making the best of what she had.
She told Maggie that "she couldn't help" being an idealist.
"I know it's foolish of me," she said in her gentle voice, smiling
her charming smile. "They all tell me so. But if life isn't meant to
be beautiful, where are we? Everything must have a meaning, mustn't
it, Mrs. Trenchard, and however often we fail--and after all we are
only human--we must try, try again. I believe in seeing the best in
people, because then they live up to that. People are what we make
them, don't you think?"
"The woman's a fool," thought Maggie.
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