'Yes, said Paul.

Sitting before the fire, with a glass bottle of sweets in her lap, was a brightly dressed woman in early middle age.

'That, said Dr Fagan with some disgust, 'is my daughter.

'Pleased to meet you, said Miss Fagan. 'Now what I always tells the young chaps as comes here is, "Don't let the dad overwork you." He's a regular Tartar, is Dad, but then you know what scholars are ‑ inhuman. Ain't you, said Miss Fagan, turning on her father with sudden ferocity ‑ 'ain't you inhuman?

'At times, my dear, I am grateful for what little detachment I have achieved. But here, he added, 'is my other daughter.

Silently, except for a scarcely perceptible jingling of keys, another woman had entered the room. She was younger than her sister, but far less gay.

'How do you do? she said. 'I do hope you have brought some soap with you. I asked my father to tell you, but he so often forgets these things. Masters are not supplied with soap or with boot polish or with washing over two shillings and sixpence weekly. Do you take sugar in your tea?

'Yes, usually.

'I will make a note of that and have two extra lumps put out for you. Don't let the boys get them, though.

'I have put you in charge of the fifth form for the rest of this term, said Dr Fagan. 'You will find them delightful boys, quite delightful. Clutterbuck wants watching, by the way, a very delicate little chap. I have also put you in charge of the games, the carpentering class, and the fire drill. And I forgot, do you teach music?

'No, I'm afraid not.

'Unfortunate, most unfortunate. I understood from Mr Levy that you did. I have arranged for you to take Beste‑Chetwynde in organ lessons twice a week. Well, you must do the best you can. There goes the bell for dinner. I won't detain you. Oh, one other thing. Not a word to the boys, please, about the reasons for your leaving Oxford! We schoolmasters must temper discretion with deceit. There, I fancy I have said something for you to think about. Good night.