"No, nor love me," said Owen. "Of course, you know, she says she loves me." CHAPTER XVIII!

"At the Registrar's, like a pair of low atheists." "Why, of any reviving pleasure that one might feel in such an exhibition. I shall feel none at all. You may personally take it as you like; but what conceivable good will it do?"

"On the occasion, at papa's, that Mrs. Brigstock told you of, and one day, since then, down at Maggie's." Fleda was silent; the worst of it all was that there was something unspoken between them. Neither of them dared to utter it, but the influence of it was in the girl's tone when she returned at last, with great gentleness: "Don't be harsh to me—I'm very unhappy." The words produced a visible impression on Mrs. Gereth, who held her face averted and sent off through the window a gaze that kept pace with the long caravan of her treasures. Fleda knew she was watching it wind up the avenue of Poynton—Fleda participated indeed fully in the vision; so that after a little the most consoling thing seemed to her to add: "I don't see why in the world you take so for granted that he's, as you say, 'lost.'" He paused so long for a reply that Fleda said: "I don't think I know what you mean by a set-to."