"Tell me about Skeaton," said Maggie.
"I've only been there once," said Katherine. "Frankly, I didn't like it very much, but then I'm so used to the Glebeshire sea that it all seemed rather tame. There was a good deal of sand blowing about the day I was there, but Paul's house is nice with a garden and a croquet-lawn, and—and—Oh! very nice, and nice people next door I believe."
"I'm glad it's not like Glebeshire," said Maggie. "That's a point in its favour. I want to be somewhere where everything is quiet and orderly, and every one knows their own mind and all the bells ring at the right time and no one's strange or queer, and—most of all—where no one's afraid of anything. All my life I've been with people who were afraid and I've been afraid myself. Now Paul and Grace are not afraid of anything."
"No, they're not," said Katherine, laughing.
Suddenly Maggie broke out:
"Katherine! Tell me truly. Does Paul want me, does he need me? Does he indeed?"
The storm of appeal in Maggie's voice made Katherine suddenly shy; there was a hint at loneliness and desolation there that was something beyond her reach. She wanted to help. She was suddenly frightened at her urging of Paul's suit. Something seemed to say to her: "Leave this alone. Don't take the responsibility of this. You don't understand ..."
But another voice said: "Poor child ... all alone, penniless, without a friend. What a chance for her! Paul such a kind man."
So she kissed Maggie, and said: "He wants you dreadfully, Maggie dear."
Maggie's cheeks flushed.