hould stand in
the way of a woman (who by the mere fact of her sex was the predestined
victim of conditions created by men's selfish passions, their vices and
their abominable tyranny) from taking the shortest cut towards securing
for herself the easiest possible existence. She had even the right to
go out of existence without considering anyone's feelings or convenience
since some women's existences were made impossible by the shortsighted
baseness of men.

I looked at her, sitting before the lamp at one o'clock in the morning,
with her mature, smooth-cheeked face of masculine shape robbed of its
freshness by fatigue; at her eyes dimmed by this senseless vigil. I
looked also at Fyne; the mud was drying on him; he was obviously tired.
The weariness of solemnity. But he preserved an unflinching, endorsing,
gravity of expression. Endorsing it all as became a good, convinced
husband.

"Oh! I see," I said. "No consideration.--Well I hope you like it."

They amused me beyond the wildest imaginings of which I was capable.
After the first shock, you understand, I recovered very quickly. The
order of the world was safe enough. He was a civil servant and she his
good and faithful wife. But when it comes to dealing with human beings
anything, anything may be expected. So even my astonishment did not
last very long. How far she developed and illustrated that
conscienceless and austere doctrine to the girl-friends, who were mere
transient shadows to her husband, I could not tell. Any length I
supposed. And he looked on, acquiesced, approved, just for that very
reason--because these pretty girls were but shadows to him. O! Most
virtuous Fyne! He cast his eyes down. He didn't like it. But I eyed
him with hidden animosity for he had got me to run after him under
somewhat false pretences.

Mrs Fyne had only smiled at me very expressively, very
self-confidently. "Oh I quite understand that you accept the fullest
responsibility," I said. "I am the only ridiculous person in this--
this--I don't know how to call it--performance. However, I've nothing
more to do here, so I'll say good-night--or good morning, for it must be
past one."

"But before departing, in common decency, I offered to take any wires
they might write. My lodgings were nearer the post-office than the
cottage and I would send them off the first thing in the morning. I
supposed they would wish to communicate, if only as to the disposal of
the l