Fyne's sentiments (as they naturally would be in a man) had more stability. A good deal of his sympathy survived. Indeed I heard him murmur "Ghastly nuisance," but I knew it was of the integrity of his domestic accord that he was thinking. With my eyes on the dog lying curled up in sleep in the middle of the porch I suggested in a subdued impersonal tone: "Yes. Why not let yourself be persuaded?"I never saw little Fyne less solemn. He hissed through his teeth in unexpectedly figurative style that it would take a lot to persuade him to "push under the head of a poor devil of a girl quite sufficiently plucky"--and snorted. He was still gazing at the distant quarry, and I think he was affected by that sight. Iassured him that I was far from advising him to do anything so cruel. I am convinced he had always doubted the soundness of my principles, because he turned on me swiftly as though he had been on the watch for a lapse from the straight path.
"Then what do you mean? That I should pretend!""No! What nonsense! It would be immoral. I may however tell you that if I had to make a choice I would rather do something immoral than something cruel. What I meant was that, not believing in the efficacy of the interference, the whole question is reduced to your consenting to do what your wife wishes you to do. That would be acting like a gentleman, surely. And acting unselfishly too, because I can very well understand how distasteful it may be to you.
Generally speaking, an unselfish action is a moral action. I'll tell you what. I'll go with you."He turned round and stared at me with surprise and suspicion. "You would go with me?" he repeated.
"You don't understand," I said, amused at the incredulous disgust of his tone. "I must run up to town, to-morrow morning. Let us go together. You have a set of travelling chessmen."His physiognomy, contracted by a variety of emotions, relaxed to a certain extent at the idea of a game. I told him that as I had business at the Docks he should have my company to the very ship.
"We shall beguile the way to the wilds of the East by improving conversation," I encouraged him.
"My brother-in-law is staying at an hotel--the Eastern Hotel," he said, becoming sombre again. "I haven't the slightest idea where it is.""I know the place. I shall leave you at the door with the comfortable conviction that you are doing what's right since it pleases a lady and cannot do any harm to anybody whatever.""You think so? No harm to anybody?" he repeated doubtfully.
"I assure you it's not the slightest use," I said with all possible emphasis which seemed only to increase the solemn discontent of his expression.
"But in order that my going should be a perfectly candid proceeding I must first convince my wife that it isn't the slightest use," he objected portentously.
