“What on earth are you so dismal about?” I cried, being genuinely surprised and puzzled. “One would think the girl was a state prisoner under your care.”
And suddenly I became still more surprised at myself, at the way I had somehow taken for granted things which did appear queer when one thought them out.
“But why this secrecy? Why did they elope—if it is an elopement? Was the girl afraid of your wife? And your brother-in-law? What on earth possesses him to make a clandestine match of it? Was he afraid of your wife too?”
Fyne made an effort to rouse himself.
“Of course my brother-in-law, Captain Anthony, the son of . . . ” He checked himself as if trying to break a bad habit. “He would be persuaded by her. We have been most friendly to the girl!”
“She struck me as a foolish and inconsiderate little person. But why should you and your wife take to heart so strongly mere folly—or even a want of consideration?”
“It’s the most unscrupulous action,” declared Fyne weightily—and sighed.
“I suppose she is poor,” I observed after a short silence. “But after all . . . ”
“You don’t know who she is.” Fyne had regained his average solemnity.
I confessed that I had not caught her name when his wife had introduced us to each other. “It was something beginning with an S- wasn’t it?” And then with the utmost coolness Fyne remarked that it did not matter. The name was not her name.