in school
it was power, and power alone that mattered.

Soon Ursula came to dread him, and at the bottom of her dread
was a seed of hate, for she despised him, yet he was master of
her. Then she began to get on. All the other teachers hated him,
and fanned their hatred among themselves. For he was master of
them and the children, he stood like a wheel to make absolute
his authority over the herd. That seemed to be his one reason in
life, to hold blind authority over the school. His teachers were
his subjects as much as the scholars. Only, because they had
some authority, his instinct was to detest them.

Ursula could not make herself a favourite with him. From the
first moment she set hard against him. She set against Violet
Harby also. Mr. Harby was, however, too much for her, he was
something she could not come to grips with, something too strong
for her. She tried to approach him as a young, bright girl
usually approaches a man, expecting a little chivalrous
courtesy. But the fact that she was a girl, a woman, was ignored
or used as a matter for contempt against her. She did not know
what she was, nor what she must be. She wanted to remain her own
responsive, personal self.

So she taught on. She made friends with the Standard Three
teacher, Maggie Schofield. Miss Schofield was about twenty years
old, a subdued girl who held aloof from the other teachers. She
was rather beautiful, meditative, and seemed to live in another,
lovelier world.

Ursula took her dinner to school, and during the second week
ate it in Miss Schofield's room. Standard Three classroom stood
by itself and had windows on two sides, looking on to the
playground. It was a passionate relief to find such a retreat in
the jarring school. For there were pots of chrysanthemums and
coloured leaves, and a big jar of berries: there were pretty
little pictures on the wall, photogravure reproductions from
Greuze, and Reynolds's "Age of Innocence", giving an air of
intimacy; so that the room, with its window space, its smaller,
tidier desks, its touch of pictures and flowers, made Ursula at
once glad. Here at last was a little personal touch, to which
she could respond.

It was Monday. She had been at school a week and was getting
used to the surroundings, though she was still an entire
foreigner in herself. She looked forward to having dinner with
Maggie. That was the bright spot in the day. Maggie was so
strong and remote, walking with slow, sure s