'Sick of the lot of you, that's what I am! Here's the old man dictates his rubbish for about an hour a day and talks drivelling, drunken piffle for the rest of it! Where's my salary coming from, that's what I want to know?'
They heard Jules apparently trying to soothe her.
'My dear Miss Brown, in a few days, if you will only be patient——'
'Patient! Who's going to be patient with that old drunkard blithering around all the time? I've had enough!'
They heard the sound of stamping footsteps and Mr. Somers-Keyne's sonorous voice.
'Flora, my dear, mosht unreasonable, I'm sure. Shimply asked you go out for a few minutes while Mr. Jules and I dishcuss important matter.'
'And I'm going out for a minute,' Miss Brown shouted, suddenly opening the door, 'and you may thank your stars when you see me again!'
She appeared upon the threshold, holding a slatternly hat upon her head with one hand and sticking hatpins in with the other. She stared insolently at Lavendale and his companion, and brushed her way past them.
'Here's visitors for you,' she called out over her shoulder. 'You'll have to get rid of them now before you start on your precious business.'
She flopped down the stairs. The newcomers stepped across the threshold. Jules stared at them in surprise. Mr. Somers-Keyne nodded his head ponderously. His mind seemed to be still running upon Miss Brown's departure.