In the middle of his leap, and while
in the act of sailing gravely through the air, he continued to relieve
his outraged feelings.
"You would never believe! They _are_ mad!"
I took care to place myself in such a position that to face me he had to
turn his back on the hotel across the road. I believe he was glad I was
there to talk to. But I thought there was some misapprehension in the
first statement he shot out at me without loss of time, that Captain
Anthony had been glad to see him. It was indeed difficult to believe
that, directly he opened the door, his wife's "sailor-brother" had
positively shouted: "Oh, it's you! The very man I wanted to see."
"I found him sitting there," went on Fyne impressively in his effortless,
grave chest voice, "drafting his will."
This was unexpected, but I preserved a noncommittal attitude, knowing
full well that our actions in themselves are neither mad nor sane. But I
did not see what there was to be excited about. And Fyne was distinctly
excited. I understood it better when I learned that the captain of the
_Ferndale_ wanted little Fyne to be one of the trustees.
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