She had
never been a very great talker, she had nothing much to say unless
to some one in whom she was interested. She was frightened lest
something should happen to the tea, and she felt that they were all
staring at her and asking themselves why her hair was cut short and
why her clothes didn't fit better. However, there it was. It was her
duty.
One Friday afternoon she was sitting alone, waiting. The door opened
and the maid announced Mrs. Purdie. Maggie remembered that she had
been told that Mr. Alfred Purdie was the richest man in Skeaton,
that he had recently married, and was but now returned from his
honeymoon.
Mrs. Purdie entered and revealed herself as Caroline Smith. For a
moment, as Maggie looked upon that magnificent figure, the room
turned about her and her eyes were dim. She remembered, as though
some one were reminding her from a long way off, that Caroline had
once told her that she was considering the acceptance of a rich
young man in Skeaton.
She remembered that at the time she had thought the coincidence of
Caroline and Paul Trenchard strange. But far stronger than any such
memory was the renewed conviction that she had that fate did not
intend to leave her alone.
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