"But she'll only have been here a few minutes. What sort of a visit is that?" Fleda cried. "Well, darling, what did you tell him?" Mrs. Gereth blandly inquired.!

"Why, she simply won't marry me, don't you see?" "Has let herself go." Mrs. Gereth spoke as if she saw it in every detail.

Mrs. Gereth gave a sharp laugh at this. "He ought at least to appreciate your wit. Oh, my dear, you are a treasure! Doesn't he appreciate anything? Has he given you absolutely no symptom—not looked a look, not breathed a sigh?" "Oh!" Fleda cried, with a long wail. Then she controlled herself. "I see." "Well, those things are between yourselves, and you seem to me both poor creatures at best." Mrs. Gereth spoke with a rich humor which tipped with light for an instant a real conviction. "I don't know what you've got in your veins: you absurdly exaggerated the difficulties. But enough is as good as a feast, and when once I get you abroad together—!" She checked herself as if from excess of meaning; what might happen when she should get them abroad together was to be gathered only from the way she slowly rubbed her hands.