"No," said Margaret. "You shan't overlook things like that. I 'm going—going away from here as soon as I can. I 'm not ashamed and I won't be indulged."
She walked towards the door. There was a need to get away before the tears that made her eyes smart should overflow and expose themselves.
"Come back," cried Ford. "I say—give a fellow a chance. Come back. I want to say something."
She would not answer him without facing him, even though it revealed the tears.
"I 'm not coming," she replied, and went out.
She had fulfilled her purpose; they had all had their cut at her, save Dr. Jakes, who would not take his turn, and Mrs. Jakes, to whom that privilege was not due. Only one of them had swung the whip effectually and left a wheal whose smart endured.
Mrs. Jakes did not count on being left out of the festival. Her rod was in pickle. She was on hand when the girl came out of her room, serene again and ready to meet any number of Mrs. Jakeses.
"Oh, Miss Harding."
Mrs. Jakes arrested her, glancing about to see that the corridor was empty.
"The doctor wishes me to tell you," said Mrs. Jakes, aiming her words at the girl's high tranquillity, "that he considers you had better make arrangements to remove to some other establishment. You understand, of course?"