There was nothing in them that the lamplight might not touch without the slightest risk of indiscretion.
Directly we had entered the room Fyne announced the result by saying "Nothing" in the same tone as at the gate on his return from the railway station.

And as then Mrs.Fyne uttered an incisive "It's what I've said," which might have been the veriest echo of her words in the garden.
We three looked at each other as if on the brink of a disclosure.

I don't know whether she was vexed at my presence.

It could hardly be called intrusion--could it?
Little Fyne began it.

It had to go on.