"You pegged at her so hard?" Owen asked. "He hasn't told her so," Fleda said.!

"Have I kept you off to-day?" Fleda sadly shook her head, raising her arms a little and dropping them. Fleda thought again. "Then, even in the event of her mother's not having got home till the morning, you would have had your letter at the latest to-day. You see she has had plenty of time."

At the end of it, one day, the London paper had another piece of news: "Mr. and Mrs. Owen Gereth, who arrived in town last week, proceed this morning to Paris." They exchanged no word about it till the evening, and none indeed would then have been uttered had not Mrs. Gereth irrelevantly broken out: "I dare say you wonder why I declared the other day with such assurance that he wouldn't live with her. He apparently is living with her." Mrs. Gereth, considering, appeared to fall in with the girl's fine humor. "Poynton was too splendidly happy." "Certainly I'm sure, with all the evidence I already have. That will finish her!" Owen declared.