"Am I? Do I strike you so? You know I hate him," Fleda went on. "If he went," Fleda asked, "doesn't that exactly prove that he recognized one?"!

"She wanted to know what right you had to meddle. She said you were not honest." He too hesitated, but he was not checked. "It's just for the reason that I'm free. Don't you know what I mean, Miss Vetch? I want you to marry me."

Fleda opened her eyes. "She went down to Ricks?" "No, but he has told you. That's better still!" laughed Mrs. Gereth. "My dear child," she went on with an air that affected the girl as a sort of blind profanity, "don't try to make yourself out better than you are. I know what you are. I haven't lived with you so much for nothing. You're not quite a saint in heaven yet. Lord, what a creature you'd have thought me in my good time! But you do like it, fortunately, you idiot. You're pale with your passion, you sweet thing. That's exactly what I wanted to see. I can't for the life of me think where the shame comes in." Then with a finer significance, a look that seemed to Fleda strange, she added: "It's all right." "Whatever we hear, I must go." As the cab went on she added: "But I needn't drag you to the station."