orm a surmise as to the real nature of the suspense. Their very
goodness must have made it very anxious. The girl's hands were lying in
her lap; her head was lowered as if in deep thought; and the other went
on delivering a sort of homily. Ingratitude was condemned in it, the
sinfulness of pride was pointed out--together with the proverbial fact
that it "goes before a fall." There were also some sound remarks as to
the danger of nonsensical notions and the disadvantages of a quick
temper. It sets one's best friends against one. "And if anybody ever
wanted friends in the world it's you, my girl." Even respect for
parental authority was invoked. "In the first hour of his trouble your
father wrote to me to take care of you--don't forget it. Yes, to me,
just a plain man, rather than to any of his fine West-End friends. You
can't get over that. And a father's a father no matter what a mess he's
got himself into. You ain't going to throw over your own father--are
you?"

It was difficult to say whether he was more absurd than cruel or more
cruel than absurd. Mrs. Fyne, with the fine ear of a woman, seemed to
detect a jeering intention in his meanly unctuous tone, something more
vile than mere cruelty. She glanced quickly over her shoulder and saw
the girl raise her two hands to her head, then let them fall again on her
lap. Fyne in front of the fire was like the victim of an unholy
spell--bereft of motion and speech but obviously in pain. It was a short
pause of perfect silence, and then that "odious creature" (he must have
been really a remarkable individual in his way) struck out into sarcasm.

"Well? . . . " Again a silence. "If you have fixed it up with the lady
and gentleman present here for your board and lodging you had better say
so. I don't want to interfere in a bargain I know nothing of. But I
wonder how your father will take it when he comes out . . . or don't you
expect him ever to come out?"

At that moment, Mrs. Fyne told me she met the girl's eyes. There was
that in them which made her shut her own. She also felt as though she
would have liked to put her fingers in her ears. She restrained herself,
however; and the "plain man" passed in his appalling versatility from
sarcasm to veiled menace.

"You have--eh? Well and good. But before I go home let me ask you, my
girl, to think if by any chance you throwing us over like this won't be
rather bad for your father later on? Just think it