a most painful ten minutes for
the Fynes. The respectable citizen addressed Miss de Barral as "Florrie"
and "my dear," remarking to her that she was not very big "there's not
much of you my dear" in a familiarly disparaging tone. Then turning to
Mrs. Fyne, and quite loud "She's very white in the face. Why's that?" To
this Mrs. Fyne made no reply. She had put the girl's hair up that
morning with her own hands. It changed her very much, observed Fyne. He,
naturally, played a subordinate, merely approving part. All he could do
for Miss de Barral personally was to go downstairs and put her into the
fly himself, while Miss de Barral's nearest relation, having been
shouldered out of the way, stood by, with an umbrella and a little black
bag, watching this proceeding with grim amusement, as it seemed. It was
difficult to guess what the girl thought or what she felt. She no longer
looked a child. She whispered to Fyne a faint "Thank you," from the fly,
and he said to her in very distinct tones and while still holding her
hand: "Pray don't forget to write fully to my wife in a day or two, Miss
de Barral." Then Fyne stepped back and the cousin climbed into the fly
muttering quite audibly: "I don't think you'll be troubled much with her
in the future;" without however looking at Fyne on whom he did not even
bestow a nod. The fly drove away.

CHAPTER FIVE--THE TEA-PARTY

"Amiable personality," I observed seeing Fyne on the point of falling
into a brown study. But I could not help adding with meaning: "He hadn't
the gift of prophecy though."

Fyne got up suddenly with a muttered "No, evidently not." He was gloomy,
hesitating. I supposed that he would not wish to play chess that
afternoon. This would dispense me from leaving my rooms on a day much
too fine to be wasted in walking exercise. And I was disappointed when
picking up his cap he intimated to me his hope of seeing me at the
cottage about four o'clock--as usual.

"It wouldn't be as usual." I put a particular stress on that remark. He
admitted, after a short reflection, that it would not be. No. Not as
usual. In fact it was his wife who hoped, rather, for my presence. She
had formed a very favourable opinion of my practical sagacity.

This was the first I ever heard of it. I had never suspected that Mrs.
Fyne had taken the trouble to distinguish in me the signs of sagacity or
folly. The few words we had exchanged last night in the excitemen