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"Being what?" she interruptednomist, Mrs Fyne And on the principles of that science a

pointed little chin is a sufficient ground for interference You want to

interfere--do you not?"

Her eyes grew distinctly bigger She had never been bantered before in

her life The late subtle poet's e and abusive Fyne had been always solemnly subservient

What other men she knew I cannot tell but I assuirl-friends sat at her feet How could she

recognize my intention She didn't knohat to make of my tone

"Are you serious in what you say?" she asked slowly And it was

touching It was as if a very young, confiding girl had spoken I felt

"No I am not, Mrs Fyne," I said "I didn't knoas expected to be

serious as well as sagacious No That science is farcical and

therefore I am not serious It's true that most sciences are farcical

except those which teach us how to put things together"

"The question is how to keep these two people apart," she struck in She

had recovered I adility