"I must take it on trust," the girl pursued. "And what if Mona doesn't give you up?" she added. "Because if he does come to me he must come to me there. If that telegram goes," said Fleda, "I return to Maggie's to-night."!

"So that of course she misses them." "I'll leave it all to my solicitor. He won't let her off: by Jove, I know the fellow!"

"Oh, I don't mean with all the things here," he explained in regard to the opinion he had just expressed. "I mean I could put up with it just as it was; it had a lot of good things, don't you think? I mean if everything was back at Poynton, if everything was all right." He brought out these last words with a sort of smothered sigh. Fleda didn't understand his explanation unless it had reference to another and more wonderful exchange—the restoration to the great house not only of its tables and chairs, but of its alienated mistress. This would imply the installation of his own life at Ricks, and obviously that of another person. Such another person could scarcely be Mona Brigstock. He put out his hand now; and once more she heard his unsounded words: "With everything patched up at the other place, I could live here with you. Don't you see what I mean?" "He won't do that," the girl replied. Then she added, smiling: "But if he should be guilty of such bad taste, it wouldn't be nice of you not to be disgusted." "Mine?" Fleda looked vague.