The house was eerily silent, which alerted her to the idea that someone might be listening. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. Fifty pupils. Least of all myself. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. ‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave. Not my affair, of course, but I think we ought to teach them more or restrain them more.
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