They spoke in low voices: there seemed to be a wall round them, and, from outside it, Simon Smith harangued Neville for allowing Miss Webb to overwork herself.
"She wanted to stay, sir. I can't use force!"
Theresa made an effort to overcome the barrier dividing her from these two. "I can't have Mr. Neville put in authority over me! I want to stay. And there's nobody at home."
"Very well. We dine at eight. But if you hadn't been gadding after that young woman with the false address and the false face, you would have had your correspondence done."
"We're doing the accounts."
"I don't care what it is. I'll get that clerk if you're not careful. Wasting your time over a woman anybody could have seen through in a blink! Miss Webb," he said, turning to Morton, "is an anomaly. You can't deceive her about men, but she's a tool in the hands of her own sex."
"I'm really the best judge of character of us all, male and female," she said, lifting her chin. "Don't you think so, Jack?" She felt power strong in her. She was the centre of a little circle which she controlled. The eyes of the three men were on her, and she knew she was admired according to the nature of each one.
Neville answered with his cheerful friendliness: "Of course you are!" Simon Smith chuckled indulgently. At Morton she did not look. She could feel the colour in her cheeks, and the sparkle in her eyes; she held her lips in their easy smile, and the weariness of her heart and mind had leapt from her.
"Well, we'll leave you to your work."
She made Neville laugh three times while he did addition sums and she classified cases.