s the last thing I should have thought could happen."

"You didn't suppose they were romantic enough," I suggested dryly.

She let it pass and with great decision but as if speaking to herself,

"Roderick really must be warned."

She didn't give me the time to ask of what precisely. She raised her
head and addressed me.

"I am surprised and grieved more than I can tell you at Mr. Fyne's
resistance. We have been always completely at one on every question. And
that we should differ now on a point touching my brother so closely is a
most painful surprise to me." Her hand rattled the teaspoon brusquely by
an involuntary movement. "It is intolerable," she added
tempestuously--for Mrs. Fyne that is. I suppose she had nerves of her
own like any other woman.

Under the porch where Fyne had sought refuge with the dog there was
silence. I took it for a proof of deep sagacity. I don't mean on the
part of the dog. He was a confirmed fool.

I said:

"You want absolutely to interfere . . . ?" Mrs. Fyne nodded just
perceptibly . . . "Well--for my part . . . but I don't really know how
matters stand at the present time. You have had a letter from Miss de
Barral. What does that letter say?"

"She asks for her valise to be sent to her town address," Mrs. Fyne
uttered reluctantly and stopped. I waited a bit--then exploded.

"Well! What's the matter? Where's the difficulty? Does your husband
object to that? You don't mean to say that he wants you to appropriate
the girl's clothes?"

"Mr. Marlow!"

"Well, but you talk of a painful difference of opinion with your husband,
and then, when I ask for information on the point, you bring out a
valise. And only a few moments ago you reproached me for not being
serious. I wonder who is the serious person of us two now."

She smiled faintly and in a friendly tone, from which I concluded at once
that she did not mean to show me the girl's letter, she said that
undoubtedly the letter disclosed an understanding between Captain Anthony
and Flora de Barral.

"What understanding?" I pressed her. "An engagement is an
understanding."

"There is no engagement--not yet," she said decisively. "That letter,
Mr. Marlow, is couched in very vague terms. That is why--"

I interrupted her without ceremony.

"You still hope to interfere to some purpose. Isn't it so? Yes? But
how should you have liked it if anybody had tried to interfere between
you and Mr. Fyne at the tim