pained mouth, the
vague fixed glance! A victim. And this characteristic aspect made her
attractive; an individual touch--you know.

The dog had run on ahead and now gazed at us by the side of the Fyne's
garden-gate in a tense attitude and wagging his stumpy tail very, very
slowly, with an air of concentrated attention. The girl-friend of the
Fynes bolted violently through the aforesaid gate and into the cottage
leaving me on the road--astounded.

A couple of hours afterwards I returned to the cottage for chess as
usual. I saw neither the girl nor Mrs. Fyne then. We had our two games
and on parting I warned Fyne that I was called to town on business and
might be away for some time. He regretted it very much. His brother-in-
law was expected next day but he didn't know whether he was a
chess-player. Captain Anthony ("the son of the poet--you know") was of a
retiring disposition, shy with strangers, unused to society and very much
devoted to his calling, Fyne explained. All the time they had been
married he could be induced only once before to come and stay with them
for a few days. He had had a rather unhappy boyhood; and it made him a
silent man. But no doubt, concluded Fyne, as if dealing portentously
with a mystery, we two sailors should find much to say to one another.

This point was never settled. I was detained in town from week to week
till it seemed hardly worth while to go back. But as I had kept on my
rooms in the farmhouse I concluded to go down again for a few days.

It was late, deep dusk, when I got out at our little country station. My
eyes fell on the unmistakable broad back and the muscular legs in cycling
stockings of little Fyne. He passed along the carriages rapidly towards
the rear of the train, which presently pulled out and left him solitary
at the end of the rustic platform. When he came back to where I waited I
perceived that he was much perturbed, so perturbed as to forget the
convention of the usual greetings. He only exclaimed Oh! on recognizing
me, and stopped irresolute. When I asked him if he had been expecting
somebody by that train he didn't seem to know. He stammered
disconnectedly. I looked hard at him. To all appearances he was
perfectly sober; moreover to suspect Fyne of a lapse from the proprieties
high or low, great or small, was absurd. He was also a too serious and
deliberate person to go mad suddenly. But as he seemed to have forgotten
that he had a ton