She did not recognize him; perhaps she did not see him. He
caught her by the arm as she ran past and, very sensibly, without trying
to check her, simply darted in with her and up the stairs, causing no end
of consternation amongst the people in his way. They scattered. What
might have been their thoughts at the spectacle of a shameless middle-
aged man abducting headlong into the upper regions of a respectable hotel
a terrified young girl obviously under age, I don't know. And Fyne (he
told me so) did not care for what people might think. All he wanted was
to reach his wife before the girl collapsed. For a time she ran with him
but at the last flight of stairs he had to seize and half drag, half
carry her to his wife. Mrs. Fyne waited at the door with her quite
unmoved physiognomy and her readiness to confront any sort of
responsibility, which already characterized her, long before she became a
ruthless theorist. Relieved, his mission accomplished, Fyne closed
hastily the door of the sitting-room.
But before long both Fynes became frightened. After a period of
immobility in the arms of Mrs.
Pages:
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204