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The girl-friend problem exercised me greatly. How and where the Fynes
got all these pretty creatures to come and stay with them I can't
imagine. I had at first the wild suspicion that they were obtained to
amuse Fyne. But I soon discovered that he could hardly tell one from the
other, though obviously their presence met with his solemn approval.
These girls in fact came for Mrs. Fyne. They treated her with admiring
deference. She answered to some need of theirs. They sat at her feet.
They were like disciples. It was very curious. Of Fyne they took but
scanty notice. As to myself I was made to feel that I did not exist.
After tea we would sit down to chess and then Fyne's everlasting gravity
became faintly tinged by an attenuated gleam of something inward which
resembled sly satisfaction. Of the divine frivolity of laughter he was
only capable over a chess-board. Certain positions of the game struck
him as humorous, which nothing else on earth could do . . .
"He used to beat you," I asserted with confidence.
"Yes. He used to beat me," Marlow owned up hastily.


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