Mr.Woodstock was an accountant.
She rang the bell, and a girl appeared.

Yes, Mr.Woodstock was at home.
Ida was told to enter the passage, and wait.
A door at her right hand as she entered was slightly ajar, and voices could be heard from the other side of it.

One of these voices very shortly raised itself in a harsh and angry tone, and Ida could catch what was said.
"Well, Mr.What's-your-name, I suppose I know my own business rather better than you can teach me.

It's pretty clear you've been doing your best for some time to set the people against me, and I'm damned if I'll have it! You go to the place on religious pretences, and what your real object may be I don't know; but I do know one thing, and that is, I won't have you hanging about any longer.

I'll meet you there myself, and if it's a third-floor window you get pitched out of, well, it won't be my fault.