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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Captives"


Grace started as though Maggie had indeed dropped a bomb at her
feet. She looked up at Maggie, wildly, her eyes staring about the
room as though she were looking for some exit of escape.
"Frightened?" she repeated.
"Yes, you are," said Maggie. "That's what worries me most. No one's
ever been frightened of me before--at least I don't think any one
has." Maggie laughed. "Why, Grace, it seems so funny any one being
frightened of me. I couldn't hurt any one if I wanted to, and I'm
sure I never want to unless it's Mrs. Maxse. Be angry with me as
much as you like, Grace, but don't be frightened of me. Why, that's
ridiculous!"
It was the worst word to have chosen. Grace flushed a dull
unwholesome purple.
"I'm sorry you think me ridiculous, Maggie," she said. "Perhaps I
am. I'm sure I don't know. Yes, perhaps I am. What I mean is that
what's ridiculous to one is not ridiculous to another. You're a
strange girl, Maggie, and you and I will never get on. No, never.
But all I ask is that you should make Paul happy. That is enough for
me. I care for nothing else. He isn't very happy just now. What I
mean is that any one can see he isn't eating his meals properly.


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