"I suppose they imagined themselves concealed by the hedge. They forgot
no doubt I was working in the garret," she said bitterly. "Or perhaps
they didn't care. They were right. I am rather a simple person . . . "
She laughed again . . . "I was incapable of suspecting such duplicity."
"Duplicity is a strong word, Mrs. Fyne--isn't it?" I expostulated. "And
considering that Captain Anthony himself . . . "
"Oh well--perhaps," she interrupted me. Her eyes which never strayed
away from mine, her set features, her whole immovable figure, how well I
knew those appearances of a person who has "made up her mind." A very
hopeless condition that, specially in women. I mistrusted her concession
so easily, so stonily made. She reflected a moment. "Yes. I ought to
have said--ingratitude, perhaps."
After having thus disengaged her brother and pushed the poor girl a
little further off as it were--isn't women's cleverness perfectly
diabolic when they are really put on their mettle?--after having done
these things and also made me feel that I was no match for her, she went
on scrupulously: "One doesn't like to use that word either. The claim is
very small. It's so little one could do for her. Still . . . "
"I dare say," I exclaimed, throwing diplomacy to the winds. "But really,
Mrs. Fyne, it's impossible to dismiss your brother like this out of the
business . . . "
"She threw herself at his head," Mrs. Fyne uttered firmly.
"He had no business to put his head in the way, then," I retorted with an
angry laugh. I didn't restrain myself because her fixed stare seemed to
express the purpose to daunt me. I was not afraid of her, but it
occurred to me that I was within an ace of drifting into a downright
quarrel with a lady and, besides, my guest. There was the cold teapot,
the emptied cups, emblems of hospitality. It could not be. I cut short
my angry laugh while Mrs. Fyne murmured with a slight movement of her
shoulders, "He! Poor man! Oh come . . . "
By a great effort of will I found myself able to smile amiably, to speak
with proper softness.
"My dear Mrs. Fyne, you forget that I don't know him--not even by sight.
It's difficult to imagine a victim as passive as all that; but granting
you the (I very nearly said: imbecility, but checked myself in time)
innocence of Captain Anthony, don't you think now, frankly, that there is
a little of your own fault in what has happened. You bring them
together, you leave your brother to himself!"