She heard the voice of a prefect—
"Who is it in there? Open the door at once."
They would break open the door.... They would find her.... They would stop her.... Coward that she was—fool and coward.... One instant's courage—one little movement!
She stiffened herself anew. Poised on the extreme edge of the outer sill, she pushed her two hands through the belt of her dress, lest they should save her in her own despite. She stood an instant, her eyes closed.
Then she sprang....
CHAPTER XXIII
Clare was enjoying tea and triumph. She had worked hard for both, and was virtuously fatigued. The rocking-chair was comfortable, and the little gym mistress had brought her her favourite cakes. The Common-room, tinkling its tea-cups, buzzed criticism and approval. The rehearsal had been a success.
The talk centred, while opinion divided, on the Constance and the Prince Arthur. The general standpoint seemed to be that Agatha had reached the heights. Her royal robes had been effective; she reminded nearly every one of a favourite actress. Louise was less popular. A curious performance—very clever, of course—only one had not thought of Arthur quite like that! Now the Constance——