Five
o'clock to-morrow would be a good time. Please ask for Miss Warlock.
Believe me, Yours faithfully, AMY WARLOCK.
Maggie stared at the signature, then, with a thickly beating heart,
decided that of course she would go. She was not afraid but--
Martin's sister! What would come of it? The house was strangely
silent; Aunt Elizabeth sniffed into her handkerchief a good deal;
Mr. Magnus, his face strained with a look of intense fatigue, went
out about some business. The blinds of the house wore down and all
the rooms were bathed in a green twilight.
About quarter past four Maggie went down into the Strand and found a
cab. She gave the address and off they went. Sitting in the corner
of the cab she seemed to be an entirely passive spectator of events
that were being played before her. She knew, remotely, that Aunt
Anne's death had deeply affected her, that coming back to the old
house had deeply affected her, and that this interview with Amy
Warlock might simply fasten on her the fate that she had for many
months now seen in front of her. She could not escape; and she did
not want to escape.
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