Fyne's
opinions had a large freedom in their pedantry. She held, I suppose,
that a woman holds an absolute right--or possesses a perfect excuse--to
escape in her own way from a man-mismanaged world.
* * * * *
What is to be noted is that even in London, having had time to take a
reflective view, poor Flora was far from being certain as to the true
inwardness of her violent dismissal. She felt the humiliation of it with
an almost maddened resentment.
"And did you enlighten her on the point?" I ventured to ask.
Mrs. Fyne moved her shoulders with a philosophical acceptance of all the
necessities which ought not to be. Something had to be said, she
murmured. She had told the girl enough to make her come to the right
conclusion by herself.
"And she did?"
"Yes. Of course. She isn't a goose," retorted Mrs. Fyne tartly.
"Then her education is completed," I remarked with some bitterness.
"Don't you think she ought to be given a chance?"
Mrs. Fyne understood my meaning.
"Not this one," she snapped in a quite feminine way. "It's all very well
for you to plead, but I--"
"I do not plead.
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