"
"Oh!" Maggie cried. "It's so strange. I knew those people in London.
I used to go to their services. And now they're coming here!"
She could not explain to Miss Toms the mysterious assurance that she
had of the way that her former world was drawing near to her again.
She could see now that never for a moment since her arrival in
Skeaton had it let her alone, slowly invading her, bit by bit
driving in upon her, forcing her to retire . . .
It was quite dark now. Because it was Sunday evening the shops were
closed. Only behind some of the curtained windows dim lights burned.
Very clearly the sea could be heard breaking upon the shore. The
last note of the bell from the Methodist Chapel echoed across the
roofs and stones.
"Good-night," said Miss Toms.
"Good-night," said Maggie.
She turned back towards home hearing, as she went, Thurston's voice,
seeing beyond all the thick shadow of Martin's body, keeping pace
with her, as it seemed, step by step with her as she went.
She turned into the Rectory drive. She heard with a startled shiver
the long gate swing screaming behind her, she could smell very
faintly the leaves of the damp cold laurel bushes that pressed close
in upon her.
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