CHAPTER IV
Enter Gabrielle
He was a short man, this Monsieur Trouville, neat and dapper, though inclined to be fat. His high forehead peaked up to his receding hair, his short moustache was stiffly waxed and stood out very black against his pallid face. He was not ill-looking, but just at that moment Joey thought she had never seen anyone quite so unpleasant.
He caught her by the arm. "What are you doing here? How dare you come? Do you not know it is forbidden, except when I take the classes here? I will report you to Miss Conyngham. You shall be expelled."
Joey stood her ground. "You can't expel people when they've only just come," she assured him stoutly. "It ... isn't done. Besides, I'm all right to tidy here. I'm the scholarship girl."
This last statement did not appear to mitigate Monsieur Trouville's fury in the least.
"You have distairbed all my bottles—you have made for me hours of work with your disobedience," he snarled. "I vill have you punished—you shall be no more at Redlands!"
He began to cast about the room, like a blood-hound nosing for a trail. Joey felt rather frightened; there was no doubt about it, Monsieur Trouville was really angry. He spluttered out the objurgations in his strong French accent rather like an angry cat. Somehow, in spite of what Noreen and Syb had said, she had not expected him to be quite so much annoyed by her presence.
"I'm awfully sorry if I've mixed your bottles," she told him, trying to speak steadily. "I didn't mean to. Perhaps some time when you're not too busy you would just show me how you like things tidied, and then——"
Monsieur Trouville made three strides towards her, with so menacing an expression that Joey gave back a step in spite of herself.