"What a baby you are.
You didn't know what you were in for . . . Oh, we'll make it all
right."
They sat close together then and drank their tea. After all, Grace
would be here in an hour! They both felt a kind of relief that they
would no longer be alone.
Grace would be here in an hour! Strange how throughout all these
last days Maggie had been looking forward to that event with dread.
There was no definite reason for fear; in London Grace had been
kindness itself and had shown real affection for Maggie. Within the
last week she had written two very affectionate letters. What was
this, then, that hung and hovered? It was in the very air of the
house and the garden and the place. Grace had left her mark upon
everything and every one, even upon the meagre person of Mitch the
dog. Especially upon Mitch, a miserable creeping fox-terrier with no
spirits and a tendency to tremble all over when you called him. He
had attached himself to Maggie, which was strange, because animals
were not, as a rule, interested in her. Mitch followed her about,
looking up at her with a yellow supplicating eye. She didn't like
him and she would be glad when Grace collected him again--but why
did he tremble?
She realised, in the way that she had of seeing further than her
nose, that Grace was going to affect the whole of her relations with
Paul, and, indeed, all her future life.
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