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He dared say they all would have been willing to
do their very best for her, for the time being; but since she was now
with her mother's friends . . .
He fidgeted. He murmured that all this was very unexpected. He wanted
to know what he had better do with letters or telegrams which might
arrive in the course of the day.
"Letters addressed to Miss de Barral, you had better bring over to my
hotel over there," said Fyne beginning to feel extremely worried about
the future. The man said "Yes, sir," adding, "and if a letter comes
addressed to Mrs. . . . "
Fyne stopped him by a gesture. "I don't know . . . Anything you like."
"Very well, sir."
The butler did not shut the street door after Fyne, but remained on the
doorstep for a while, looking up and down the street in the spirit of
independent expectation like a man who is again his own master. Mrs.
Fyne hearing her husband return came out of the room where the girl was
lying in bed. "No change," she whispered; and Fyne could only make a
hopeless sign of ignorance as to what all this meant and how it would
end.


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