"Very good." He snatched up his hat, clapped it on the back of his head, and stood for a few moments staring at her vindictively. Then, clenching his fist and striking the table, he burst into a storm of abuse....
"But you'll be sorry for this, my grand lady. I'll make you pay for it before I've done with you." This was after he had been raving at her for a couple of minutes, and his voice had become hoarse. "You'll learn better—or I'll know the reason why."
Then he turned, flung open the door, and stamped out of the room.
"What do you want here—you prying old hag? Stand on one side, unless you wish me to pitch you down the stairs."
Outside on the landing he had found Yates hastily moving away from the dining-room door. Terrified by the noise, she had been irresistibly drawn towards the room where her mistress was suffering. She longed to aid, but did not dare.
She came into the room now, and saw Mrs. Marsden leaning back in her chair, white and nearly breathless, looking half dead.
"Oh, ma'am—oh, ma'am! Whatever are we to do?"
"It's all right, Yates. Don't distress yourself. It's nothing.... Mr. Marsden lost his temper for the moment—but I assure you, it's all right."
"Let me get you upstairs to bed."
"No, leave me alone, please. I am quite all right—but I'll stay here quietly for a little while.... Go to bed, yourself. Don't sit up for me."