It was all I could do to hold her in the hall while I called to the servants to come and shut the door." As is my habit, or my weakness, or my gift, I don't know which, I visualized the story for myself.

I really can't help it.

And the vision of Mrs.Fyne dressed for a rather special afternoon function, engaged in wrestling with a wild-eyed, white-faced girl had a certain dramatic fascination.
"Really!" I murmured.
"Oh! There's no doubt that she struggled," said Mrs.Fyne.

She compressed her lips for a moment and then added: "As to her being a comedian that's another question." Mrs.Fyne had returned to her attitude of folded arms.

I saw before me the daughter of the refined poet accepting life whole with its unavoidable conditions of which one of the first is the instinct of self- preservation and the egoism of every living creature.