And that other life began to be dim and faint-even Martin was a
little hidden and mysterious. Strangely she was glad of that; the
only way that this could be carried through was by keeping the other
out of it. Would the two worlds mingle? Would the faces and voices
of those spirits be seen and heard again? Would they leave Maggie
now or plan to steal her back? The whole future of her life depended
on the answer to that . . .
During those weeks she investigated Skeaton very thoroughly. She
found that her Skeaton, the Skeaton of Fashion and the Church, was a
very small affair consisting of two rows of villas, some detached
houses that trickled into the country, and a little clump of villas
on a hill over the sea beyond the town. There were not more than
fifty souls all told in this regiment of Fashion, and the leaders of
the fifty were Mrs. Constantine, Mrs. Maxse, Miss Purves, a Mrs.
Tempest (a large black tragic creature), and Miss Grace Trenchard-
and they had for their male supporters Colonel Maxse, Mr. William
Tempest, a Mr. Purdie (rich and idle), and the Reverend Paul. Maggie
discovered that the manners, habits, and even voices and gestures of
this sacred Fifty were all the same.
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