He listened to Mrs.Fyne's objections with undisguised impatience.

Why couldn't Florrie get up and have her breakfast at eight like other people?
In his house the breakfast was at eight sharp.

Mrs.Fyne's polite stoicism overcame him at last.

He had come down at a very great personal inconvenience, he assured her with displeasure, but he gave up the early train.
The good Fynes didn't dare to look at each other before this unforeseen but perfectly authorized guardian, the same thought springing up in their minds: Poor girl! Poor girl! If the women of the family were like this too!.

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