"Oh yes, she will have written bang off!" Owen cheerfully conceded. "You mean that she'll be the soul of the row?"!

"Poynton was too splendidly happy," Fleda promptly echoed. "It's utterly beastly!"

Our young lady's spirit was strangely divided; she had a tenderness for Owen which she deeply concealed, yet it left her occasion to marvel at the way a man was made who could care in any relation for a creature like Mona Brigstock when he had known in any relation a creature like Adela Gereth. With such a mother to give him the pitch, how could he take it so low? She wondered that she didn't despise him for this, but there was something that kept her from it. If there had been nothing else it would have sufficed that she really found herself from this moment the medium of communication with him. "Should I love him for all he has made you suffer?" "And you don't really think it's fair, do you? You don't!" He spoke very quickly; he really seemed to plead.