"What understanding?" I pressed her. "An engagement is an
understanding."
"There is no engagement--not yet," she said decisively. "That letter,
Mr. Marlow, is couched in very vague terms. That is why--"
I interrupted her without ceremony.
"You still hope to interfere to some purpose. Isn't it so? Yes? But
how should you have liked it if anybody had tried to interfere between
you and Mr. Fyne at the time when your understanding with each other
could still have been described in vague terms?"
She had a genuine movement of astonished indignation. It is with the
accent of perfect sincerity that she cried out at me:
"But it isn't at all the same thing! How can you!"
Indeed how could I! The daughter of a poet and the daughter of a convict
are not comparable in the consequences of their conduct if their
necessity may wear at times a similar aspect. Amongst these consequences
I could perceive undesirable cousins for these dear healthy girls, and
such like, possible causes of embarrassment in the future.
"No! You can't be serious," Mrs. Fyne's smouldering resentment broke out
again.
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