Fleda had listened in awe. "And no one at Poynton said anything? There was no alarm?" "You'll tell her what you think she ought to do?" he asked with some eagerness.!

"If you do any such thing, you shall never see me again,—absolutely, literally never!" Fleda was mystified. "People surely knew at Poynton," she objected, "if, as you say, she's there."

The girl's heart gave a tremendous bound; the right way dawned upon her in a flash. Obscurity indeed the next moment engulfed this course, but for a few thrilled seconds she had understood. To send the things back "for her" meant of course to send them back if there were even a dim chance that she might become mistress of them. Fleda's palpitation was not allayed as she asked herself what portent Mrs. Gereth had suddenly perceived of such a chance: that perception could come only from a sudden suspicion of her secret. This suspicion, in turn, was a tolerably straight consequence of that implied view of the propriety of surrender from which, she was well aware, she could say nothing to dissociate herself. What she first felt was that if she wished to rescue the spoils she wished also to rescue her secret. So she looked as innocent as she could and said as quickly as possible: "For me? Why in the world for me?" "Well, darling, what did you tell him?" Mrs. Gereth blandly inquired. "Then, in God's name, what must I do?"