She jumped up at their entrance.

She had shaken her damp hair loose; her eyes were dry--with the heat of rage.
I can imagine little Fyne solemnly sympathetic, solemnly listening, solemnly retreating to the marital bedroom.

Mrs.Fyne pacified the girl, and, fortunately, there was a bed which could be made up for her in the dressing-room.
"But--what could one do after all!" concluded Mrs.Fyne.
And this stereotyped exclamation, expressing the difficulty of the problem and the readiness (at any rate) of good intentions, made me, as usual, feel more kindly towards her.
Next morning, very early, long before Fyne had to start for his office, the "odious personage" turned up, not exactly unexpected perhaps, but startling all the same, if only by the promptness of his action.

From what Flora herself related to Mrs.Fyne, it seems that without being very perceptibly less "odious" than his family he had in a rather mysterious fashion interposed his authority for the protection of the girl.

"Not that he cares," explained Flora.