. . My
Master . . ."
Then very faintly: "The Lord is my Shepherd . . . My Shepherd . . .
He shall lead me forth . . . beside the pastures . . . my rod and my
staff . . . The Lord . . ."
She gave a little sigh and her head rolled to one side.
Maggie, with a startled fear, was suddenly conscious that she was
alone in the room. She went to the door and called for the doctor.
As they gathered about the bed the caverns of the fire fell with the
sharp sound of a closing door.
Next morning Maggie wrote to Paul telling him that her aunt was
dead, that the funeral would be in two days' time, and that she
would stay in London until that was over. She had not very much time
just then to think of the house and the dead woman in it, because on
the breakfast-table there was this letter for her.
23 CROMWELL RD., KENSINGTON, March 12, 1912.
DEAR MRS. TRENCHARD,
I hear that you have come to London to visit your aunt. I have been
hoping for some time past to have an opportunity of seeing you. I am
sure that you will have no wish at all to see me; at the same time I
do beg you to give me half an hour at the above address.
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