Fleda shook her head wearily. "No—I was only in love with him!" "Does Mona?"!

"It wasn't with me you were in love, my duck." Then Mrs. Gereth added: "I'll go and tell him." "That's horrible!" said Fleda, looking at him in woe.

"Then where is he?" poor Fleda helplessly wailed. She caught herself up, however; she did her best to be brave and clear. Before Mrs. Gereth could reply, with due obviousness, that this was a question for her not to ask, but to answer, she found an air of assurance to say: "You simplify far too much. You always did and you always will. The tangle of life is much more intricate than you've ever, I think, felt it to be. You slash into it," cried Fleda finely, "with a great pair of shears, you nip at it as if you were one of the Fates! If Owen's at Waterbath he's there to wind everything up." "Then you had much better let Mr. Gereth go, and stay by yourself and make me a pleasant visit. You can talk with him when you like, but it is the first time you've been to see me." Fleda hesitated; she had not quite had a definite idea. "Well—he'll give them up."