At that very moment soft laughter came from behind a door. A prim-voiced
clock struck the hour--one, two. Now if the clock were issuing his
commands, they were disregarded. Fire, insurrection,
Cheap Newport, examination,
Cheap Newport, were
all snowed under by laughter, or softly uprooted, the sound seeming to
bubble up from the depths and gently waft away the hour, rules,
discipline. The bed was strewn with cards. Sally was on the floor. Helena
in the chair. Good Bertha clasping her hands by the fire-place. A.
Williams came in yawning.
'Because it's utterly and intolerably damnable,' said Helena.
'Damnable,
Marlboro Gold,' echoed Bertha. Then yawned.
'We're not eunuchs.'
'I saw her slipping in by the back gate with that old hat on. They don't
want us to know.'
'They?' said Angela. 'She.'
Then the laughter.