Not inimical. Merely detached. Their eyes went to her, and came away again, expressionlessly. No one commented on what she had said. Their indifference left her marooned in the moment.
"I think it's fun to show people what we can do," she added, a hint of defence in her tone.
They let that pass too. Never before had Lucy met that negative English silence in its full perfection; in its full cruelty. Her own edges began to curl up in sympathy.
But Rouse was less easily shrivelled. She was eyeing the plates before her, and putting out her hand for something to eat. "Is there any tea left in the pot?" she asked.
Nash bent forward to the big brown pot, and Stewart took up the talk from where the Disciples had left it.
"What really is murder is waiting to see what you pull out of the Post lottery."
"Post?" said Lucy. "You mean jobs? But why a lottery? You know what you apply for, surely?"
"Very few of us need to apply," Nash explained, pouring very black tea. "There are usually enough applications from schools to go round. Places that have had Leys gymnasts before just write to Miss Hodge when they have a vacancy and ask her to recommend someone. If it happens to be a very senior or responsible post, she may offer it to some Old Student who wants a change. But normally the vacancies are filled from Leaving Students."
"And a very fine bargain they get," said a Disciple.
"No one works so hard as a First-Poster does," said a second.