Smith?" I asked innocently.
Fyne made an extraordinary simiesque grimace. I believe it was quite
involuntary, but you know that a grave, much-lined, shaven countenance
when distorted in an unusual way is extremely apelike. It was a
surprising sight, and rendered me not only speechless but stopped the
progress of my thought completely. I must have presented a remarkably
imbecile appearance.
"My brother-in-law considered it amusing to chaff me about us introducing
the girl as Miss Smith," said Fyne, going surly in a moment. "He said
that perhaps if he had heard her real name from the first it might have
restrained him. As it was, he made the discovery too late. Asked me to
tell Zoe this together with a lot more nonsense."
Fyne gave me the impression of having escaped from a man inspired by a
grimly playful ebullition of high spirits. It must have been most
distasteful to him; and his solemnity got damaged somehow in the process,
I perceived. There were holes in it through which I could see a new, an
unknown Fyne.
"You wouldn't believe it," he went on, "but she looks upon her father
exclusively as a victim.
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