United States or Mongolia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
As you may easily guess the Fynes, in their apartments, had read the news at the same time, and, as a matter of fact, in the same august and highly moral newspaper, as the governess in the luxurious mansion a few doors down on the opposite side of the street. But they read them with different feelings. They were thunderstruck. Fyne had to explain the full purport of the intelligence to Mrs.
I was most painfully affected when he was here by the difficulty of finding a single topic we could discuss together." While Mrs. Fyne was talking of her brother I let my thoughts wander out of the room to little Fyne who by leaving me alone with his wife had, so to speak, entrusted his domestic peace to my honour. "Well, then, Mrs.
From what Flora herself related to Mrs. Fyne, it seems that without being very perceptibly less "odious" than his family he had in a rather mysterious fashion interposed his authority for the protection of the girl. "Not that he cares," explained Flora. "I am sure he does not. I could not stand being liked by any of these people.
A couple of hours afterwards I returned to the cottage for chess as usual. I saw neither the girl nor Mrs. Fyne then. We had our two games and on parting I warned Fyne that I was called to town on business and might be away for some time. He regretted it very much. His brother-in- law was expected next day but he didn't know whether he was a chess-player.
I ought to have been moved perhaps; but I only noted the total absence of humility. "No right at all," I continued, "but just interest. Mrs Fyne it's too difficult to explain how it came about has talked to me of you well extensively." No doubt Mrs Fyne had told me the truth, Flora said brusquely with an unexpected hoarseness of tone. This very dress she was wearing had been given her by Mrs Fyne.
But what could they have done even if they had been prepared to raise objections. The person in the frock-coat had the father's, note; he had shown it to Fyne.
He sat gazing stonily into space bounded by the yellow, burnt-up slopes of the rising ground a couple of miles away. The face of the down showed the white scar of the quarry where not more than sixteen hours before Fyne and I had been groping in the dark with horrible apprehension of finding under our hands the shattered body of a girl.
I didn't insist but simply led the way back to the parlour, hoping that no wayfarer would happen along the lane for the next hour or so to disturb the dog's composure. Mrs. Fyne seated immovable before the table charged with plates, cups, jugs, a cold teapot, crumbs, and the general litter of the entertainment turned her head towards us. "You see, Mr.
Mr and Mrs Fyne ambushed at their window a most incredible occupation for people of their kind saw with renewed anxiety a cab come to the door, and watched some luggage being carried out and put on its roof. The butler appeared for a moment, then went in again. What did it mean?
It was all I could do to hold her in the hall while I called to the servants to come and shut the door." As is my habit, or my weakness, or my gift, I don't know which, I visualised the story for myself. I really can't help it. And the vision of Mrs Fyne dressed for a rather special afternoon function, engaged in wrestling with a wild-eyed, white-faced girl had a certain dramatic fascination.
Word Of The Day