His wife had then--h'm--met him;
and on her marriage she lost sight of the child completely. But after
the birth of Polly (Polly was the third Fyne girl) she did not get on
very well, and went to Brighton for some months to recover her
strength--and there, one day in the street, the child (she wore her hair
down her back still) recognized her outside a shop and rushed, actually
rushed, into Mrs. Fyne's arms. Rather touching this. And so,
disregarding the cold impertinence of that . . . h'm . . . governess, his
wife naturally responded.
He was solemnly fragmentary. I broke in with the observation that it
must have been before the crash.
Fyne nodded with deepened gravity, stating in his bass tone--
"Just before," and indulged himself with a weighty period of solemn
silence.
De Barral, he resumed suddenly, was not coming to Brighton for week-ends
regularly, then. Must have been conscious already of the approaching
disaster. Mrs. Fyne avoided being drawn into making his acquaintance,
and this suited the views of the governess person, very jealous of any
outside influence.
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