She seemed to be flung
from service to service, to be singing in the choir (she had no
voice), asking children their catechism, listening to Paul's high,
rather strained, voice reading the lessons, talking politely to Mrs.
Maxse or one of the numerous girls, knitting and sewing (always so
badly), and above all struggling to remember the things that she was
for ever forgetting. Throughout this period she was pervaded by the
damp, oily smell of the heated church, always too hot, always too
close, always too breathless.
She had many headaches; she liked them because they held back her
temptation to think of forbidden things.
Gradually, although she did not know it, the impression gained
ground that she was "queer." She had not been to the Toms' often,
but she was spoken of as their friend. She had seen Caroline, who
was now considered by the church a most scandalous figure, scarcely
at all, but it was known that she was an old friend. Above all, it
was understood that the rector and his wife were not happy.
"Oh, she's odd--looks more like a boy than a woman. She never says
anything, seems to have no ideas.
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