"You haven't thought--"
"Oh yes, Mrs. Fyne! I have thought. I am still thinking. I am even
trying to think like you."
"Mr. Marlow," she said earnestly. "Believe me that I really am thinking
of my brother in all this . . . " I assured her that I quite believed
she was. For there is no law of nature making it impossible to think of
more than one person at a time. Then I said:
"She has told him all about herself of course."
"All about her life," assented Mrs. Fyne with an air, however, of making
some mental reservation which I did not pause to investigate. "Her
life!" I repeated. "That girl must have had a mighty bad time of it."
"Horrible," Mrs. Fyne admitted with a ready frankness very creditable
under the circumstances, and a warmth of tone which made me look at her
with a friendly eye. "Horrible! No! You can't imagine the sort of
vulgar people she became dependent on . . . You know her father never
attempted to see her while he was still at large. After his arrest he
instructed that relative of his--the odious person who took her away from
Brighton--not to let his daughter come to the court during the trial.
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