Fyne was a very self-possessed
person which nothing could startle out of her extreme theoretical
position. She did not seem startled when Fyne and I proposed going to
the quarry.
"You put that notion into their heads," the girl said.
I advanced that the notion was in their heads already. But it was much
more vividly in my head since I had seen her up there with my own eyes,
tempting Providence.
She was looking at me with extreme attention, and murmured:
"Is that what you called it to them? Tempting . . . "
"No. I told them that you were making up your mind and I came along just
then. I told them that you were saved by me. My shout checked you . . .
" She moved her head gently from right to left in negation . . . "No?
Well, have it your own way."
I thought to myself: She has found another issue. She wants to forget
now. And no wonder. She wants to persuade herself that she had never
known such an ugly and poignant minute in her life. "After all," I
conceded aloud, "things are not always what they seem."
Her little head with its deep blue eyes, eyes of tenderness and anger
under the black arch of fine eyebrows was very still.
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