out of existence without considering anyone's feelings or convenience
since some women's existences were made impossible by the shortsighted
baseness of men.

I looked at her, sitting before the lamp at one o'clock in the morning,
with her mature, smooth-cheeked face of masculine shape robbed of its
freshness by fatigue; at her eyes dimmed by this senseless vigil. I
looked also at Fyne; the mud was drying on him; he was obviously tired.
The weariness of solemnity. But he preserved an unflinching, endorsing,
gravity of expression. Endorsing it all as became a good, convinced
husband.

"Oh! I see," I said. "No consideration . . . Well I hope you like it."

They amused me beyond the wildest imaginings of which I was capable.
After the first shock, you understand, I recovered very quickly. The
order of the world was safe enough. He was a civil servant and she his
good and faithful wife. But when it comes to dealing with human beings
anything, anything may be expected. So even my astonishment did not last
very long. How far she developed and illustrated that conscienceless and
austere doctrine to the girl-friends, who were mere transient shadows to
her husband, I could not tell. Any length I supposed. And he looked on,
acquiesced, approved, just for that very reason--because these pretty
girls were but shadows to him. O! Most virtuous Fyne! He cast his eyes
down. He didn't like it. But I eyed him with hidden animosity for he
had got me to run after him under somewhat false pretences.

Mrs. Fyne had only smiled at me very expressively, very self-confidently.
"Oh I quite understand that you accept the fullest responsibility," I
said. "I am the only ridiculous person in this--this--I don't know how