He refused to commit himself to any opinion as to the original strength and magnitude of Miss Quincey's brain; he could only assure her that the most powerful intellect in the world would break down if you kept it perpetually doing sums in arithmetic.

It was the monotony of the thing, you see; year after year Miss Quincey had been ploughing up the same little patch of brain.

No, certainly _not_--she mustn't think of going back to St.Sidwell's for another three months.
Three months! Impossible! It was a whole term.
Dr.Cautley scowled horribly and said that if she was ever to be fit for cube-root and decimals again, she positively and absolutely _must_.
Whereupon Miss Quincey gave way to emotion.
To leave St.Sidwell's, abandon her post for three months, she who had never been absent for a day! If she did that it would be all up with Miss Quincey; a hundred eager applicants were ready to fill her empty place.
It was as if she heard the hungry, leaping pack behind her, the strong young animals trained for the chase; they came tearing on the scent, hunting her, treading her down.
When Rhoda Vivian looked in after morning school, she found a flushed and embarrassed young man trying to soothe Miss Quincey, who paid not the least attention to him; she seemed to have shrunk into her bed, and lay there staring with dilated eyes like a hare crouched flat and trembling in her form.

From the other side of the bed Dr.Cautley's helpless and desperate smile claimed Rhoda as his ally.

It seemed to say, "For God's sake take my part against this unreasonable woman." Now no one (not even Miss Quincey) could realize the insecurity of Miss Quincey's position better than Rhoda, who was fathoms deep in the confidence of the Head.