Marguerite remained at the door, having tried to pry and force it open several hundred times, to no avail. At this point, she was merely bemused, her face a mask of confusion and disorientation. Surely the door must open! But it would not.
It was then that she was bodily greeted with the inventor walking headlong into her.
"I do beg your pardon!" she exclaimed, her lips tightening into the classic frown of Victorian disapproval. But truth be told, she was too befuddled to consider his objectionable and thoughtless manoeuvrings a serious affront.