Fyne with desolation and that sense of powerless anguish
which is experienced in certain kinds of nightmare. For how could she
warn the girl? She did venture to tell her once that she didn't like Mr.
Charley. Miss de Barral heard her with astonishment. How was it
possible not to like Charley? Afterwards with naive loyalty she told
Mrs. Fyne that, immensely as she was fond of her she could not hear a
word against Charley--the wonderful Charley.
The daughter of de Barral probably enjoyed her jolly ride with the jolly
Charley (infinitely more jolly than going out with a stupid old riding-
master), very much indeed, because the Fynes saw them coming back at a
later hour than usual. In fact it was getting nearly dark. On
dismounting, helped off by the delightful Charley, she patted the neck of
her horse and went up the steps. Her last ride. She was then within a
few days of her sixteenth birthday, a slight figure in a riding habit,
rather shorter than the average height for her age, in a black bowler hat
from under which her fine rippling dark hair cut square at the ends was
hanging well down her back.
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