Part 37 (2/2)

”Miss Hartill, may I speak to you?”

”I can't wait, Louise. I'm busy.”

”Miss Hartill, was it all right? Were you pleased? I tried furiously.

Was it as you wanted it?”

”Oh, you played your own version.” Clare caught her up sharply.

”But Miss Durand said--you said I was to.”

”I expect it was all right,” said Clare lightly. ”I'm afraid I was too busy to attend much, even to your efforts, Louise.” She smiled crookedly. ”And now run along and change.”

She pushed against the door, but Louise, beyond all control, caught back the handles.

”Miss Hartill--you shall listen. Are you always going to be angry? What have I done? Will you never be good to me again as you used to be?”

Clare's face grew stern.

”Louise, you are being very silly. Let me pa.s.s.”

”Because I can't bear it. It's killing me. Couldn't you stop being angry?”

Clare, ignoring her, wrenched open the door. Louise, flung sideways, slipped on the polished floor. She crouched where she fell, and caught at Clare's skirts. She was completely demoralised.

”Miss Hartill! Oh, please--please--if you would only understand. You hurt me so. You hurt me so.”

Clare stood looking down at her.

”Once and for all, Louise, I dislike scenes. Let me go, please.”

For a moment their eyes strove. And suddenly Louise, relaxing all effort, let her go. Without another look, Clare retraced her steps and entered the Common-room. Louise, still crouching against the wall, watched her till she disappeared. The doors swung and clicked into rigidity.

There was a sudden uproar of voices and laughter and sc.r.a.ping chairs. A distant door had opened.

Louise started to her feet, and sped swiftly up the stairs, flight on flight, of the tall old house, till she reached the top floor and the music-room. It was empty. She flung-to the door, and fumbled with the stiff key. It turned at last, and she leaned back against the lock, shaking and breathless, but with a sense of relief.

She was safe.... Not for long--they would be coming up soon--but long enough for her purpose.

But first she must recover breath. It was foolish to tremble so. It only hindered one ... when there was so little time to lose.

Hurriedly she sorted out her little pile of everyday clothes--some irrelevant instinct insisting on the paramount necessity of changing into them. Mrs. Denny would be annoyed if she spoiled the new costume.

She re-dressed hastily and, clasping her belt, crossed to the window.

It was tall and divided into three cas.e.m.e.nts. The centre door was open.

A low seat ran round the bay. She climbed upon it and stood upright, peering out.

How high up she was! There was a blue haze on the horizon, above the line of faint hills, that melted in turn into a weald, chequered like the chessboard counties in _Alice_. So there was a world beyond the school! Nearer still, the suburb spread map-like. She craned forward.

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