"But I want to----"
"You can go, doctor," repeated Mrs. Arne in the same unemotional voice. Without another word, Drabble, the bully, stole out of the room.
Mallow was amazed.
"It is necessary to preserve discipline here," said Madame, observing his expression. "Pray be seated, Mr. Mallow. If you do not mind, I will continue my knitting."
"I do not mind at all," replied Mallow, seating himself mechanically. He watched her firm, plump hands clicking the shining needles together as she wove her web of red wool-work.
She divined his thoughts. "You wonder at my employment," she said without a smile. "It is very feminine, is it not? Not quite in keeping perhaps, you think, with my reputation? But, you see, I am turning fiction into fact."
"Madame Defarge, I suppose you mean?"
She nodded. "A wonderful character in a wonderful book. The 'Tale of Two Cities' and your Carlyle's 'Revolution' are my favourite reading. What times, what people, what glory! I had rather work with guillotines than with bombs, but" (with a shrug) "what would you? We have improved on all that. I speak your tongue well do I not?"
"Excellently well, Madame; you are never at a loss for a word."
"I am never at a loss for anything, my friend," returned Madame Arne composedly. "But we must get to business. Tell me, why did you look so fixedly at me when you entered the room?"