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On the other
hand there was something fascinating in the very absurdity. He cut along
in his best pedestrian style and I found myself let in for a spell of
severe exercise at eleven o'clock at night.
In the distance over the fields and trees smudging and blotching the vast
obscurity, one lighted window of the cottage with the blind up was like a
bright beacon kept alight to guide the lost wanderer. Inside, at the
table bearing the lamp, we saw Mrs. Fyne sitting with folded arms and not
a hair of her head out of place. She looked exactly like a governess who
had put the children to bed; and her manner to me was just the neutral
manner of a governess. To her husband, too, for that matter.
Fyne told her that I was fully informed. Not a muscle of her ruddy
smooth handsome face moved. She had schooled herself into that sort of
thing. Having seen two successive wives of the delicate poet chivied and
worried into their graves, she had adopted that cool, detached manner to
meet her gifted father's outbreaks of selfish temper. It had now become
a second nature.


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