"
"Very improperly," repeated Fyne. "His manner was offensive, derisive,
from the first. I don't mean he was actually rude in words. Hang it
all, I am not a contemptible ass. But he was exulting at having got hold
of a miserable girl."
"It is pretty certain that she will be much less poor and miserable," I
murmured.
It looked as if the exultation of Captain Anthony had got on Fyne's
nerves. "I told the fellow very plainly that he was abominably selfish
in this," he affirmed unexpectedly.
"You did! Selfish!" I said rather taken aback. "But what if the girl
thought that, on the contrary, he was most generous."
"What do you know about it," growled Fyne. The rents and slashes of his
solemnity were closing up gradually but it was going to be a surly
solemnity. "Generosity! I am disposed to give it another name. No. Not
folly," he shot out at me as though I had meant to interrupt him. "Still
another. Something worse. I need not tell you what it is," he added
with grim meaning.
"Certainly. You needn't--unless you like," I said blankly. Little Fyne
had never interested me so much since the beginning of the de
Barral-Anthony affair when I first perceived possibilities in him.
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