"Barbara Rouse, eighty-one," Lucy said, before she thought.
"Yes, surprising, isn't it?" Miss Lux said placidly. "But she works like a black. She is so brilliant in her physical work that I think it maddens her to be far down any list."
"Innes seems to make a habit of heading the lists."
"Oh, Innes is wasted here."
"Why? The more intelligence one brings to a profession the better surely?"
"Yes, but with an intelligence like Innes's one could head much more thrilling lists than these. It's a waste."
"I somehow don't think that Rouse will get eighty-one for today's paper," Lucy said, as they moved away from the board.
"Why? Was she in difficulties?"
"Bogged down," said Lucy; and hoped that she did not sound too pleased. " What a life it is," she added, as the five-minute bell rang, and the dripping Seniors came running in from the gymnasium, ripping off their tunics as they tore into the bathrooms for a shower before the gong went. "When you think of the leisurely way we acquired knowledge. At university, I mean. If we sat a final examination, the rest of the day would almost certainly be our own to recover in. But these young creatures do it as part of their time-table."
From the bathrooms came cursing and chaos. "Oh, Donnie, you swine, that was my shower!" "Mark, you brute, get off my foot!" "Oh, no, you don't, my girl; these are my tights!" "God, look at my blisters!" "Kick over my shoe, Greengage, the floor's sopping." " Must you shoot the cold water round like that, you chump!"