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sand things she might have been！then perhaps life would be possible without Grace。 But now！ 。 。 。 at the thought of being alone for ever with Maggie a strange passion； mingled of fascination and fear； affection and sensuality； cowardice and excitement； pervaded him。 What would their life together be？ Then he turned to Grace as the very rock of his safety。
〃Oh； Grace； you mustn't goyou mustn't think of going。 Whatever should I do without you？〃
A dull flush of gratification coloured her cheeks。
〃Either she goes or I；〃 she repeated。 〃It can't go on。 You must see that it can't。 Fancy what people must be thinking！〃
As always； he postponed the issue。 〃We'll settle something。 Don't you worry； dear。 You go and lie down。 That's what you wanta thorough good rest。〃
She plodded off。 For himself he decided that fresh air was what he needed。 He went for a stroll。 As soon as he was in the Charleston Road that led to the High Street he was pleased with the day。 Early spring； mild； faint haze； trees dimly purple； a bird clucking； the whisper of the sea stirring the warm puddles and rivulets across the damp dim road。 Warm； yes； warm and promising。 Lent 。 。 。 tiresome。 Long services； gloomy sermons。 Rebuking people； scolding themmade them angry； did them no good。 Then Easter。 That was better。 Jolly hymns。 〃Christ is risen！ Christ is risen！〃 Jolly flowersprimroses； crocuses（no； they were earlier）。 They'll have forgotten about Maggie's uncle by then。 Live it downthat's the thing。 Give them a good genial sermon this Sunday。 Show them he wasn't caring 。 。 。 If only the women would get on together。 Womenwomen。 How difficult they were！ Yes； Sunday would be difficultfacing them all。 He knew what they'd be thinking。 He wanted to be jolly again。 Jolly。 That was the thing。 Joking with Grace； jolly even with Maggie。 Jolly with his congregation。 Jolly with God。 Why wasn't he left alone？ Had been until Maggie came。 Maggie like a stone flung into a frosty pool！ Broke everything up； simply because she was unlike other people。 He'd married her because he thought he could make her into what he pleased。 Well； it had been the other way。 Oh； she was queer； queer； queer。
He stopped； his large boots in a warm puddle。 He felt the warm sun hot through the damp mist。 He wanted to take her into his arms； to hug her； above all to feel her response。 To feel her response； that was what； for years now； he had been wanting； and never once had she responded。 Never once。 She let him do as he pleased； but she was passive。 She didn't love him。 Grace loved him； but how dull Grace was！ Dullit was all dull！ Grace was dull； Skeaton was dull； the church was dullGod was dull！ God？ Where was God？ He looked around。 There was no God。 To what had he been praying all these years？ He had not been praying。 His congregation had not been praying。 They were all dead and God was dead too。
He looked up and saw that his boots were in a puddle。 He walked on。 For a moment； the mists of sloth and self…indulgence that had for years obscured his vision had shifted and cleared； but even as he moved they settled down and resolved themselves once more。 The muscles of Paul's soul were stiff with disuse。 Training is a lengthy affair and a tiresome business to the stout and middle…aged。
The hedges gave way to houses； he was in the High Street。 He saw then； plastered at intervals on the hoardings； strange phenomena。 It was the colour that first attracted hima bright indecent pink with huge black lettering。 Because it was the offseason in Skeaton other announcements were few。 All the more prominent then the following：
THE KINGSCOTE BEETHEEN WILL HOLD A RELIGIOUS FESTIVAL IN THE TOWN OF SKEATON…ON…SEA FROM APRIL 10 TO 16。…SERVICES 10 A。M。； 3 P。M。 SPECIAL SONG SERVICE； 7。30 P。M。 DAILY All are Cordially Invited。 ADDRESSES BY REV。 JOHN THURSTON。 REV。 WILLIAM CRASHAW。 SISTER AVIES。
Paul stared at this placard with horror and disgust in his soul。 For the moment Maggie and Grace and all the scandal connected with them was forgotten。 This was terrible。 By temperament； tradition； training； he loathed and feared every phase of religion known to him as 〃Methodistic。〃 Under this term he included everything that was noisy； demonstrative； ill…bred and melodramatic。 Once when an undergraduate at Cambridge he had gone to some meeting of the kind。 There had been impromptu prayers； ghastly pictures of hell…fire； appeals to the undergraduates to save themselves at once lest it be too late； confessions and appeals for mercy。 The memory of that evening still filled him with physical nausea。 It was to him as though he had seen some gross indecent act in public or witnessed some horrible cruelty。
Maggie had told him very little about the Chapel and its doings； and he had shrunk from asking her any questions； but everything that was odd and unusual in her behaviour he attributed to her months under that influence。 As he stared at the flaunting pink sheet he felt as though it were a direct personal assault on himself and his church。
And yet he knew that he could do nothing。 Once before there had been something of the kind in Skeaton and he had tried with others to stop it。 He had failed utterly； the civic authorities in Skeaton seemed almost to approve of these horrors。 He looked at the thing once more and then turned hack towards home。 Something must be done 。 。 。 Something must he done 。 。 。 but； as on so many earlier occasions in his life； he could face no clear course of action。
That Saturday evening he tried to change his sermon。 He had determined to deliver a very fine address on 〃Brotherly Love〃 and then； most fortunately； he had discovered a five…years' old sermon that would； with a little adaptation； exactly fit the situation。
To…night he was sick of his adaptation。 The sermon had not been a good one at the first； and now it was a tattered thing of shreds and patches。 He tried to add to it some sentences about the approaching 〃Revival。〃 No sentences would come。 What a horrible fortnight it had been！ He looked back upon his district visiting； his meetings； his choir…practices with disgust。 Something had come in between himself and his people。 Perhaps the relationship had never been very real？ Founded on jollity。 An eagerness to accept anybody's mood for one's own if only that meant jollity。 What had he thought； standing in the puddle that afternoon？ That they were all dead； he and his congregation and God； all dead together？ He sank into his chair； picked up the Church Times； and fell asleep。
Next morning as he walked into the choir this extraordinary impression that his congregation was dead persisted。 As he recited the 〃Confession〃 he looked about him。 There was Mr。 Maxse； and there Miss Purves。 Every one was in his and her appointed place； old Colonel Rideout with the purple gills not kneeling because of his gout； young Edward Walter； heir to the sugar factory； not kneeling because he was lazy； sporting Mr。 Harper； whose golf handicap was ＋3； not kneeling because to do so would spoil the crease of his trousers； old Mrs。 Dean with her bonnet and bugles； the worst gossip in Skeaton。 her eyes raised to heaven； the Quiller girls with their hard red colour and their hard bright eyes； Mr。