Then the Abbot rose, and said-- "Good! On your own head be it." Again there was a silence, and, as she made no answer, he turned and walked towards the door, leaving her still staring into the bowl.
"Good!" she repeated, as he laid his hand upon the latch.

"I have told you that I choose death, but I have not told you whose death it is I choose.

Play your game, my Lord Abbot, and I'll play mine, remembering that God holds the stakes.

Meanwhile I confirm the words I spoke in my rage at Cranwell.

Expect evil, for I see now that it shall fall on you and all with which you have to do." Then with a sudden movement she upset the bowl upon the table and watched him go..