"But in order that my going should be a perfectly candid proceeding I
must first convince my wife that it isn't the slightest use," he objected
portentously.
"Oh, you casuist!" I said. And I said nothing more because at that
moment Mrs. Fyne stepped out into the porch. We rose together at her
appearance. Her clear, colourless, unflinching glance enveloped us both
critically. I sustained the chill smilingly, but Fyne stooped at once to
release the dog. He was some time about it; then simultaneously with his
recovery of upright position the animal passed at one bound from
profoundest slumber into most tumultuous activity. Enveloped in the
tornado of his inane scurryings and barkings I took Mrs. Fyne's hand
extended to me woodenly and bowed over it with deference. She walked
down the path without a word; Fyne had preceded her and was waiting by
the open gate. They passed out and walked up the road surrounded by a
low cloud of dust raised by the dog gyrating madly about their two
figures progressing side by side with rectitude and propriety, and (I
don't know why) looking to me as if they had annexed the whole country-
side.
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