"But would you rather I didn't go?" asked Maggie, aggravated.
"You must use your judgment," said Paul.
"But don't you see that I can't leave a friend just because people
are saying nasty things."
"There's your position in the parish," said Paul.
"Oh, Paul!" Maggie cried. "Don't be so aggravating! Just say what
you really think."
"I'm sorry I'm aggravating," said Paul patiently.
It was this conversation that determined Maggie. She had been
coming, through all the winter months, to a resolution. She must be
alone with Paul, she must have things out with him. As the months
had gone they had been slipping further and further apart. It had
been Paul who had gradually withdrawn into himself. He had been kind
and thoughtful but reserved, shy, embarrassed. She understood his
trouble, but at her first attempt to force him to speak he escaped
and placed Grace between them. Well, this summer should see the end
of that. They must know where they stood, and for that they must be
alone . . .
One day, early in June, Paul announced that he thought of exchanging
duties, for the month of August, with a Wiltshire clergyman.
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