"My wife assures me that the girl does not love him a bit. She goes by

that letter she received from her. There is a passage in it where she

practically admits that she was quite unscrupulous in accepting this

offer of marriage, but says to my wife that she supposes she, my wife,

will not blame her--as it was in self-defence. My wife has her own

ideas, but this is an outrageous misapprehension of her views.

Outrageous."

The good little man paused and then added weightily:

"I didn't tell that to my brother-in-law--I mean, my wife's views."

"No," I said. "What would have been the good?"

"It's positive infatuation," agreed little Fyne, in the tone as though he

had made an awful discovery. "I have never seen anything so hopeless and

inexplicable in my life. I--I felt quite frightened and sorry," he

added, while I looked at him curiously asking myself whether this

excellent civil servant and notable pedestrian had felt the breath of a

great and fatal love-spell passing him by in the room of that East-end

hotel. He did look for a moment as though he had seen a ghost, an other-

world thing. But that look vanished instantaneously, and he nodded at me

with mere exasperation at something quite of this world--whatever it was.

"It's a bad business. My brother-in-law knows nothing of women," he

cried with an air of profound, experienced wisdom.

What he imagined he knew of women himself I can't tell. I did not know

anything of the opportunities he might have had. But this is a subject

which, if approached with undue solemnity, is apt to elude one's grasp

entirely. No doubt Fyne knew something of a woman who was Captain

Anthony's sister. But that, admittedly, had been a very solemn study. I

smiled at him gently, and as if encouraged or provoked, he completed his

thought rather explosively.

"And that girl understands nothing . . . It's sheer lunacy."

"I don't know," I said, "whether the circumstances of isolation at sea

would be any alleviation to the danger. But it's certain that they shall

have the opportunity to learn everything about each other in a lonely

tete-a-tete."

"But dash it all," he cried in hollow accents which at the same time had

the tone of bitter irony--I had never before heard a sound so quaintly

ugly and almost horrible--"You forget Mr. Smith."

"What Mr. Smith?" I asked innocently.

Fyne made an extraordinary simiesque grimace. I believe it was quite

involuntary, but you know that a grave, much-lined, shaven countenance

when distorted in an unusual way is extremely apelike. It was a

surprising sight, and rendered me not only speechless but stopped the

progress of my thought completely. I must have presented a remarkably

imbecile appearance.




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024