I don't think it would have been kind
either. I told her that she must be prepared for the world passing a
very severe judgment on her father . . . "
* * * * *
"Wasn't it admirable," cried Marlow interrupting his narrative.
"Admirable!" And as I looked dubiously at this unexpected enthusiasm he
started justifying it after his own manner.
"I say admirable because it was so characteristic. It was perfect.
Nothing short of genius could have found better. And this was nature! As
they say of an artist's work: this was a perfect Fyne.
Compassion--judiciousness--something correctly measured. None of your
dishevelled sentiment. And right! You must confess that nothing could
have been more right. I had a mind to shout "Brava! Brava!" but I did
not do that. I took a piece of cake and went out to bribe the Fyne dog
into some sort of self-control. His sharp comical yapping was
unbearable, like stabs through one's brain, and Fyne's deeply modulated
remonstrances abashed the vivacious animal no more than the deep, patient
murmur of the sea abashes a nigger minstrel on a popular beach.
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