"If he went," Fleda asked, "doesn't that exactly prove that he recognized one?" "Poynton was too splendidly happy," Fleda promptly echoed.!

At this our young lady smiled. "Yes, because it was a disappointment. She had been so sure." "Leaving you quite to yourself?"

"In as few days as possible. That's all that's left for me now." Fleda's heart, at this, gave a bound; she wondered to what particular difference in Mrs. Gereth's situation as last known to her it was an allusion. "I've made my plan," her friend continued: "I go for at least a year. We shall go straight to Florence; we can manage there. I of course don't look to you, however," she added, "to stay with me all that time. That will require to be settled. Owen will have to join us as soon as possible; he may not be quite ready to get off with us. But I'm convinced it's quite the right thing to go. It will make a good change; it will put in a decent interval." "Beautiful things?" Mrs. Gereth turned again to the little worn, bleached stuffs and the sweet spindle-legs. "They're the wretched things that were here—that stupid, starved old woman's." Owen stared. "You haven't lifted a finger! It's I who have taken possession."