Every word that came from their lips increased her rage: they hated Isabel—Isabel who had never done them any harm or hurt. As their voices, even and cold, went on, she forgot that dark, silent figure in the corner, and her hands began to twitch the silk of her purple gown. Suddenly in an instant Freddie was forgotten, everything was forgotten save Isabel, and she burst out, her eyes burning, her cheeks flaming: “Really, Mrs. Dormer, you are a little inaccurate. I'm sure we must all agree that it's a pity if anyone is so silly as to knock someone else down because someone else has stolen one's umbrella, and I'm sure I should never want to; and indeed I remember quite well Miss Tweedy, who was matron here two years ago, taking a gray parasol of mine to chapel with her and putting it up before everybody, and nobody thought anything of it, and I remember Miss Tweedy being quite angry because I asked for it back again. I think it's very stupid of Mr. Perrin to make such a fuss about nothing, and I never did like him, and I don't care who knows it; but at any rate I don't see what this has all got to do with dear Isabel's engagement, and I think young Traill's a delightful fellow, and I hope they 'll both be enormously happy, and I think it's very unkind of you to wish them not to be!” Mrs. Comber took a deep breath.
“Really, my dear Mrs. Comber,” said Mrs. Dormer very slowly, “I'm sure we none of us wish them anything but happiness. Please don't have the impression that we are not eager for their good.”
“I can't help feeling, Mrs. Comber,” said Miss Madder, “that you have rather misunderstood our position in the matter.”
“Well, I'm sure I'm very sorry if I have,” broke in Mrs. Comber hurriedly, beginning already to be sorry that she had spoken so quickly.
“You see,” went on Miss Madder, “that I don't think we can any of us have two feelings about the question of discipline. I'm sure you agree with us there, Mrs. Comber.”
“Oh, of course,” said Mrs. Comber.
But she saw at once that war had been declared. They hated Isabel, and they hated her; they would make it so unpleasant that Isabel would not be able to come and stay again—they were of one mind.
Above all, after they had gone, there remained the impression of that silent, black lady who had said not a word. What would she tell Moy-Thompson? What harm would come to Freddie?
Last, and worst of all, as Mrs. Comber most wretchedly reflected, Freddie had still to be faced.
His feelings, she knew, would be strongly expressed, and were certainly not in a line with her own.