Chance

"Really!" I murmured.

"Oh! There's no doubt that she struggled," said Mrs. Fyne. She

compressed her lips for a moment and then added: "As to her being a

comedian that's another question."

Mrs. Fyne had returned to her attitude of folded arms. I saw before me

the daughter of the refined poet accepting life whole with its

unavoidable conditions of which one of the first is the instinct of self-

preservation and the egoism of every living creature. "The fact remains

nevertheless that you--yourself--have, in your own words, pulled her in,"

I insisted in a jocular tone, with a serious intention.

"What was one to do," exclaimed Mrs. Fyne with almost comic exasperation.

"Are you reproaching me with being too impulsive?"

And she went on telling me that she was not that in the least. One of

the recommendations she always insisted on (to the girl-friends, I

imagine) was to be on guard against impulse. Always! But I had not been

there to see the face of Flora at the time. If I had it would be

haunting me to this day. Nobody unless made of iron would have allowed a

human being with a face like that to rush out alone into the streets.

"And doesn't it haunt you, Mrs. Fyne?" I asked.

"No, not now," she said implacably. "Perhaps if I had let her go it

might have done . . . Don't conclude, though, that I think she was

playing a comedy then, because after struggling at first she ended by

remaining. She gave up very suddenly. She collapsed in our arms, mine

and the maid's who came running up in response to my calls, and . . . "

"And the door was then shut," I completed the phrase in my own way.

"Yes, the door was shut," Mrs. Fyne lowered and raised her head slowly.

I did not ask her for details. Of one thing I am certain, and that is

that Mrs. Fyne did not go out to the musical function that afternoon. She

was no doubt considerably annoyed at missing the privilege of hearing

privately an interesting young pianist (a girl) who, since, had become

one of the recognized performers. Mrs. Fyne did not dare leave her

house. As to the feelings of little Fyne when he came home from the

office, via his club, just half an hour before dinner, I have no

information. But I venture to affirm that in the main they were kindly,

though it is quite possible that in the first moment of surprise he had

to keep down a swear-word or two.