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.
His reason for leaving his breakfast unfinished to run after Miss de Barral's governess, was to speak to her in reference to that very errand possessing the utmost possible importance in his eyes.

He shrugged his shoulders at the nervousness of her eyes and hands, at the half-strangled whisper "I had to go out.

I could hardly contain myself." That was her affair.