"Well, darling, what did you tell him?" Mrs. Gereth blandly inquired. "I'm only prepared for the worst. The Brigstocks will simply send any telegram on."!

She came out on the platform: everywhere she met the smoke. She covered her face with her hands. "I'll go back." "It was near it, I was told, an hour ago—the fury of the flames had got such a start. I was there myself at six, the very first I heard of it. They were fighting it then, but you couldn't quite say they had got it down."

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.'" "It has lasted long enough for my purpose. There was something I wanted to know, but I think I know it now." "But why on earth?" Mrs. Gereth's sad eyes were fixed on her.