He put his arms round her and kissed her, first her eyes, then her cheeks, then, gently, her mouth."All right," he said."Only I feel somehow...I feel as though our time had come to an end." "But it shan't?" He turned upon her fiercely, held her hands, looked in her face."Maggie, do you swear that you'll love me always, whatever Iam, whatever I do?" "I swear," she answered, gazing into his eyes,"that I'll love you always, whatever you are, whatever you do." Then she went away, leaving him by the table, staring after her.In the street she saw that her chrysanthemum was in pieces, torn and scattered and destroyed.She slipped off the ring and put it into her pocket, then, with forebodings in her heart, as though she did indeed know that her good time was over, she turned towards home.
She was right.Her good time was over.That night she was left alone.Martha let her in and, regarding her darkly, said nothing.
The aunts also said nothing, sitting all the evening under the green shade of the lamp in the drawing-room, Aunt Anne reading a pamphlet, Aunt Elizabeth sewing.Maggie pretended to read but she saw no words.She saw only the green lamp like a dreadful bird suspended there and Aunt Anne's chiselled sanctity.Over and over again she reasoned with herself.There was no cause for panic.Nothing had happened to change things--and yet--and yet everything was changed.
Everything had been changed from that moment when Martin pressed her hand in the theatre.Everything!...Danger now of every sort.She could be brave, she could meet anything if she were only sure of Martin.But he too seemed strange to her.She remembered his dark look, his frown when she had refused him.Oh, this loneliness, this helplessness.If she could be with him, beside him, she would fear nothing.That night, the first faint suspicion of jealousy, of doubt, an agonising dart of pain at the knowledge of what it would mean to her now if he left her, stirred in her breast.This room was stifling.She got up from her chair, went to the window, looked out between the thick curtains at the dark deserted street."What is it, Maggie?" "Nothing, Aunt Anne." "You're very restless, dear." "It's close.May I open the door?" "A little, dear." She opened the door and then sat there hearing the Armed Men sway ever so slightly, tap, tap, against the wall in the passage.That night she scarcely slept at all, only tumbling into sudden nightmare dreams when something had her by the throat and Martin was not there.In the morning as soon as she could escape she hurried to Piccadilly.Martin was waiting for her.When she saw him she realised at once that her good time was indeed over.His face was white and strained.He scarcely looked at her but stared anxiously up and down the street.
"What is it?" she asked breathlessly."Look here, Maggie," he began, still scarcely looking at her."I must get back at once.I only came to tell you that we must drop our meetings for the next day or two--until it's blown over."
"Until what's blown over," she asked him.
"It's my father.I don't know what exactly has happened.They'll none of them tell me, damn them.It's Caroline Smith.She's been talking to Amy about you and me.I know that because of what Amy said about you at breakfast this morning.""What did she say?"
"She wouldn't speak out.She hinted.But she admitted that Caroline Smith had told her something.But she doesn't matter.Nothing matters except father.He mustn't be excited just now.His heart's so bad.Any little thing...We must wait."She saw that he was scarcely realising her at all.She choked down all questions that concerned themselves.She simply agreed, nodding her head.
He did look at her then, smiling as he used to do.
"It's awfully hard on us.It won't be for more than a day or two.
But I must put things right at home or it will be all up.I don't care for the others, of course, but if anything happened to father through me..." He told her to write to the Charing Cross post-office.He would do the same.In a day or two it would be all right.
He pressed her hand and was gone.
When she looked about her the street seemed quite empty although it was full of people.She threw up her head.She wouldn't be beaten by anybody...only, it was lonely going back to the house and all of them...alone...without Martin.
She cried a little on her way home.But they were the last tears she shed.