ent pretence
of quieting the dog confirmed my notion of there being a considerable
strain on his elasticity. I confronted Mrs Fyne resolved not to assist
her in her eminently feminine occupation of thrusting a stick in the
spokes of another woman's wheel.

"She tried to preserve her calm-eyed superiority. She was familiar and
olympian, fenced in by the tea-table, that excellent symbol of domestic
life in its lighter hour and its perfect security. In a few severely
unadorned words she gave me to understand that she had ventured to hope
for some really helpful suggestion from me. To this almost chiding
declaration--because my vindictiveness seldom goes further than a bit of
teasing--I said that I was really doing my best. And being a
physiognomist..."

"Being what?" she interrupted me.

"A physiognomist," I repeated raising my voice a little. "A
physiognomist, Mrs Fyne. And on the principles of that science a
pointed little chin is a sufficient ground for interference. You want
to interfere--do you not?"

Her eyes grew distinctly bigger. She had never been bantered before in
her life. The late subtle poet's method of making himself unpleasant
was merely savage and abusive. Fyne had been always solemnly
subservient. What other men she knew I cannot tell but I assume they
must have been gentlemanly creatures. The girl-friends sat at her feet.
How could she recognise my intention. She didn't know what to make of
my tone.

"Are you serious in what you say?" she asked slowly. And it was
touching. It was as if a very young, confiding girl had spoken. I felt
myself relenting.

"No. I am not, Mrs Fyne," I said. "I didn't know I was expected to be
serious as well as sagacious. No. That science is farcical and
therefore I am not serious. It's true that most sciences are farcical
except those which teach us how to put things together."

"The question is how to keep these two people apart," she struck in.
She had recovered. I admired the quickness of women's wit. Mental
agility is a rare perfection. And aren't they agile! Aren't they--
just! And tenacious! When they once get hold you may uproot the tree
but you won't shake them off the branch. In fact the more you shake ...
But only look at the charm of contradictory perfections! No wonder men
give in--generally. I won't say I was actually charmed by Mrs Fyne. I
was not delighted with her. What affected me was not what she displayed
but some