Fleda thought an instant. "You mean makes her hesitate to keep you—not hesitate to renounce you?" "Should I love him for all he has made you suffer?"!

"To send them back—to keep it quiet." The girl had not felt the impulse to ask him to sit down among the monuments of his wrong, so that, nervously, awkwardly, he fidgeted about the room with his hands in his pockets and an effect of returning a little into possession through the formulation of his view. "To have them packed and dispatched again, since she knows so well how. She does it beautifully"—he looked close at two or three precious pieces. "What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander!" "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?"

"If you'll go for him yourself, I'll wait here," said Fleda. "What else can I really pretend when you threaten so to cast me off if I speak the word myself?" Fleda hesitated. "Has he informed you, dear Mrs. Gereth?"