“For the present—yes. You must remember that we don’t know who you are.”
“She will tell you.”
“Yes; she is very intelligent,” answered the priest, entering the doorway and preparing to mount the stairs.
But Paul knocked him down.
Then he ran forward up the stairs; he opened doors at random, he ran through room after room; women met him, and screamed. At last, where the hall turned sharply, Mr. Smith confronted him. Mr. Smith was perfectly composed.
“In a moment. All shall be as you like, if you will wait—”
“Wait yourself!” cried Paul, felling him to the floor. Then he ran on.
At the end of the hall Mrs. Wingate stopped him. Her manner was unaltered; it was business-like and cheerful; her plump hands were clasped over her dress.
“Now,” she said, “no more violence! You’ll hardly knock down a woman, I suppose?”