Rose generally kept her angry passions in check, but, although she had
managed not to betray herself while in Miss Day's room, now as she
stood alone in the brilliantly lighted corridor, she simply danced
with rage. Her small hands were clenched until the nails pierced the
flesh and her delicately colored face became livid with passion.
At that moment she hated Annie Day-- she hated Polly Singleton-- she
hated, perhaps, most of all Maggie Oliphant.
She walked down the corridor, her heart beating fast. Her own room was
on another floor; to reach it she had to pass Miss Peel's and Miss
Oliphant's rooms. As Rose was walking slowly down the corridor she saw
a girl come out of Miss Oliphant's room, turn quickly in the opposite
direction to the one from which she was coming, and, quickening her
pace to a run, disappear from view. Rose recognized this girl: she was
Priscilla Peel. Rose hastened her own steps and peeped into Maggie's
room. To her surprise, it was empty; the door had swung wide open and
the excited, perturbed girl could see into every corner. Scarcely
knowing why she did it, she entered the room. Maggie's room was
acknowledged to be one of the most beautiful in the college, and Rose
said to herself that she was glad to have an opportunity to examine it
unobserved.
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