"Get out of that chair," he jerked it away from her. "Out of her presence. You'll deal with me, or not at all."
He slid his hands from her shoulders to under her elbows: the noises she made in her throat were indescribable, but her actual resistance was small.
"You are not to sit down in her presence."
"I prefer to stand."
"Nor stand either. Outside..." he bundled her towards the door, she tried to hold her ground, but he forced her along. "We've had nearly enough of you, very nearly enough. You wait outside that door. I'll have a word with Mrs. Capel and give you your last chance." She bup—ped out her remonstrance.
"I came here to do her a service. As Mrs. Eddy writes: 'Light and darkness cannot mingle.' I must do as I am guided, and I said from the first we should go to James Capel. Husband and wife should never separate if there is no Christian demand for it."
"Oh! go to hell!"
He shut the door in her face and came back to Margaret.
"You'd better let me get rid of her for you. I shouldn't pay her a brass farthing."
"I'd pay her anything, anything, rather than go through again what I went through before." She burst into tears.