“If you want to be let to live, you have,” said Mr. Brunt.

“Well, if you can't keep order, what good are you?” said Miss Harby.

“An' you've got to do it by yourself,” — his voice rose like the bitter cry of the prophets. “You'll get no help from anybody.”

“Oh, indeed!” said Miss Harby. “Some people can't be helped.” And she departed.

The air of hostility and disintegration, of wills working in antagonistic subordination, was hideous. Mr. Brunt, subordinate, afraid, acid with shame, frightened her. Ursula wanted to run. She only wanted to clear out, not to understand.

Then Miss Schofield came in, and with her