"I should damned well think not," exploded Fairfax Fuller, without a trace of apology. "I take my orders from Sir Julian Rossiter, and until he's lost confidence in me, I run this staff the way I think best. You'll excuse me, Lady Rossiter, if I say that I think we've discussed the matter long enough."
Edna stood up, more angry than she had ever allowed herself to be since the days of her girlhood.
"You forget yourself altogether, Mr. Fuller, and I feel certain that you will be the first person to realise that an apology is due to me when you are yourself again."
For all answer, Fuller opened the door and banged it to again almost before she had crossed the threshold.
Lady Rossiter, in the hall outside, found her knees shaking under her in a manner hitherto unknown to her. Fairfax Fuller's temper, displayed after the fashion of his kind, was a return to nature of which she had never before had experience. Not devoid of an instinctive reluctance to being found, shaken and agitated, in the College which had only been allowed to see her as a serene visiting goddess, Edna almost furtively made her way upstairs in search of an empty classroom in which to calm herself.
A general quiet pervaded the upper floor of the building; the smell of soap and water upon newly-scrubbed boards proclaimed the recent presence of the usual Saturday afternoon charwoman. Lady Rossiter, still shaking, felt the imperative need of a champion, and murmured something indignant to herself about a woman alone, which was shortly afterwards disproved by a distant and subdued sound of unceasing voices. Edna reflected that even young Cooper might be of solace, and was also not averse from seizing the opportunity of disclaiming all further connection with the presentation of Iris' wedding-present.
She rose wearily, crossing the lobby in search of the just-audible voice that she judged to come from the smallest and most remote classroom. The door was shut, but through the upper panels of glass Lady Rossiter was only too well enabled to perceive that which struck fresh dismay to her mind.
Miss Marchrose was sitting at a small table in the window, her back to the door, her head bent, and her hands idle in her lap. Beside her sat Mark Easter, his voice still audible, and in front of him a disordered pile of papers at which he made no pretence of looking.
Lady Rossiter drew back almost upon the instant, but she had seen that he was speaking much more earnestly than was usual with him.
From sheer desire to gain time in which to consider these unwelcome phenomena, Edna retreated once more to the room across the landing.