She retorted that once one was dead what horrid people thought of one did
not matter. It was said with infinite contempt; but something like a
suppressed quaver in the voice made me look at her again. I perceived
then that her thick eyelashes were wet. This surprising discovery
silenced me as you may guess. She looked unhappy. And--I don't know how
to say it--well--it suited her. The clouded brow, the pained mouth, the
vague fixed glance! A victim. And this characteristic aspect made her
attractive; an individual touch--you know.

The dog had run on ahead and now gazed at us by the side of the Fyne's
garden-gate in a tense attitude and wagging his stumpy tail very, very
slowly, with an air of concentrated attention. The girl-friend of the
Fynes bolted violently through the aforesaid gate and into the cottage
leaving me on the road--astounded.

A couple of hours afterwards I returned to the cottage for chess as
usual. I saw neither the girl nor Mrs. Fyne then. We had our two games
and on parting I warned Fyne that I was called to town on business and
might be away for some time. He regretted it very much. His brother-in-
law was expected next day but he didn't know whether he was a
chess-player. Captain Anthony ("the son of the poet--you know") was of a
retiring disposition, shy with strangers, unused to society and very much
devoted to his calling, Fyne explained. All the time they had been
married he could be induced only once before to come and stay with them
for a few days. He had had a rather unhappy boyhood; and it made him a
silent man. But no doubt, concluded Fyne, as if dealing portentously
with a mystery, we two sailors should find much to say to one another.

This point was never settled. I was detained in town from week to week
till it seemed hardly worth while to go back. But as I had kept on my