"No," Mrs. Gereth replied, "but because they belong to the house and the house belongs to Owen. If I should wish to take anything, she would simply say, with that motionless mask: 'It goes with the house.' And day after day, in the face of every argument, of every consideration of generosity, she would repeat, without winking, in that voice like the squeeze of a doll's stomach: 'It goes with the house—it goes with the house.' In that attitude they'll shut themselves up." "No, 'she' won't see them." Then Fleda said, "What I mean is, for this dear one of ours, that if she had (as I know she did; it's in the very taste of the air!) a great accepted pain—"!

"So much that they're all, and that she can let everything else absolutely depend upon them?" She showed her amusement. "They've a much better right to say it's none of mine."

"I want to take her in the right way, don't you know?—treat her as if I gave her more than just an hour or two." "And you don't really think it's fair, do you? You don't!" He spoke very quickly; he really seemed to plead. "Do you really think so?" Fleda presently inquired. "I mean, does he, after the fact, as it were, accept it?"