"Now I think I'll have tea at once without taking my hat off. In
Paul's study? That's nice . . . Maggie, dear, how are you? Such a
journey! But astonishing! Just fancy! I got into Charing Cross and
then--! Why! Here's the study! Fancy! . . . Maggie, dear, how are
you? Well? That's right. Why, there's tea! That's right. Everything
just as it was. Fancy! . . ." She took off her gloves, smiled,
seated herself more comfortably, then began to look about the room.
Suddenly there came: "Why, Paul, where's the Emmanuel football
group?"
There was a moment's silence. Maggie felt her heart give a little
bump, as it seemed to her, right against the roof of her mouth. Paul
(so like him) had not noticed that the football group had vanished.
He stared at the blank place on the wall where it had once been.
"Why, Grace . . . I don't know. I never noticed it wasn't there."
"I took it down," said Maggie. "I thought there were too many
photographs. It's in the attic."
"In the attic? . . . Fancy! You put it away, did you, Maggie? Well,
fancy! Shan't I make the tea, Maggie, dear? That tea-pot, it's an
old friend of mine.
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