She wasn't an invalid was she? No. What
was the matter with her then?
An extreme distaste for that respectable member of society was depicted
in Fyne's face even as he was telling me of him after all these years. He
was a specimen of precisely the class of which people like the Fynes have
the least experience; and I imagine he jarred on them painfully. He
possessed all the civic virtues in their very meanest form, and the
finishing touch was given by a low sort of consciousness he manifested of
possessing them. His industry was exemplary. He wished to catch the
earliest possible train next morning. It seems that for seven and twenty
years he had never missed being seated on his office-stool at the factory
punctually at ten o'clock every day. He listened to Mrs. Fyne's
objections with undisguised impatience. Why couldn't Florrie get up and
have her breakfast at eight like other people? In his house the
breakfast was at eight sharp. Mrs. Fyne's polite stoicism overcame him
at last. He had come down at a very great personal inconvenience, he
assured her with displeasure, but he gave up the early train.
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