Fleda hesitated. "Why do you need saving, when you announced to me just now that you're a free man?" Fleda hesitated; she felt herself reddening. "I've only said your son wants it. I haven't said I do."!

"Even the Maltese cross. Why not that as well as everything else?—especially as I remembered how you like it." Mrs. Brigstock, at this, looked into her eyes more deeply and yearningly than she had supposed Mrs. Brigstock could look; it was the flicker of a certain willingness to give her a chance. Owen, however, quickly spoiled everything. "Nothing is more probable than that Mrs. Brigstock is doing what you say; but there's no one in the world to whom you owe an explanation. I may owe somebody one—I dare say I do; but not you, no!"

"You're not all right—you're all wrong!" Fleda cried in despair. "You mustn't stay here, you mustn't!" she repeated with clear decision. "You make me say dreadful things, and I feel as if I made you say them." But before he could reply she took it up in another tone. "Why in the world, if everything had changed, didn't you break off?" "Never. Besides, I'm happy," said Fleda. "Mine?" Fleda looked vague.