She stormed into the hall and slammed the door behind her just before the porcelain washbasin crashed into it from the other side. She turned to find an interested audience, no doubt attracted by the racket, standing in the hall. Brother Roger and Murtagh stood side by side, staring at her flushed face and heaving bosom. Roger looked uncomfortable, but a slow smile spread over Murtagh's craggy countenance as he listened to the string of Gaelic obscenities going on behind the door.