"At the Registrar's, like a pair of low atheists." Owen's legs, not to mention his voice, had wavered while he spoke, and she felt his possession of her hand loosen so that she was free again. Her stare of perception broke into a lively laugh. "Oh, you're all right, for you will get them. You will; you're quite safe; don't worry!" She fell back into the house with her hand on the door. "Good-bye, good-bye." She repeated it several times, laughing bravely, quite waving him away and, as he didn't move and save that he was on the other side of it, closing the door in his face quite as he had closed that of the drawing-room in hers. Never had a face, never at least had such a handsome one, been so presented to that offense. She even held the door a minute, lest he should try to come in again. At last, as she heard nothing, she made a dash for the stairs and ran up.!

"Why, letting me tell her a dozen things she can have." Fleda pondered a moment. "If she did go back that night you would have heard from Waterbath by this time."

"Why, Mona's much worse than her mother. She wants much more to give me up." Fleda paid this statement the homage of a minute's muteness. "As to that, naturally, she has reason." "That's another matter: they'd bear it if I could. There won't have been, this time either, a shake or a scratch. But I'm too tired—I very nearly don't care."