In the dining-room the governess in her place, a newspaper half-concealed
under the cloth on her lap, after a few words exchanged with lips that
seemed hardly to move, remaining motionless, her eyes fixed before her in
an enduring silence; and presently Charley coming in to whom she did not
even give a glance. He hardly said good morning, though he had a half-
hearted try to smile at the girl, and sitting opposite her with his eyes
on his plate and slight quivers passing along the line of his
clean-shaven jaw, he too had nothing to say. It was dull, horribly dull
to begin one's day like this; but she knew what it was. These
never-ending family affairs! It was not for the first time that she had
suffered from their depressing after-effects on these two. It was a
shame that the delightful Charley should be made dull by these stupid
talks, and it was perfectly stupid of him to let himself be upset like
this by his aunt.
When after a period of still, as if calculating, immobility, her
governess got up abruptly and went out with the paper in her hand, almost
immediately afterwards followed by Charley who left his breakfast half
eaten, the girl was positively relieved. They would have it out that
morning whatever it was, and be themselves again in the afternoon. At
least Charley would be. To the moods of her governess she did not attach
so much importance.
For the first time that morning the Fynes saw the front door of the awful
house open and the objectionable young man issue forth, his rascality
visible to their prejudiced eyes in his very bowler hat and in the smart
cut of his short fawn overcoat. He walked away rapidly like a man
hurrying to catch a train, glancing from side to side as though he were
carrying something off. Could he be departing for good? Undoubtedly,
undoubtedly! But Mrs. Fyne's fervent "thank goodness" turned out to be a
bit, as the Americans--some Americans--say "previous." In a very short
time the odious fellow appeared again, strolling, absolutely strolling
back, his hat now tilted a little on one side, with an air of leisure and
satisfaction. Mrs. Fyne groaned not only in the spirit, at this sight,
but in the flesh, audibly; and asked her husband what it might mean. Fyne
naturally couldn't say. Mrs. Fyne believed that there was something
horrid in progress and meantime the object of her detestation had gone up
the steps and had knocked at the door which at once opened to admit him.
He had been only as far as the bank.