"I haven't the least idea," Fleda repeated. "Oh yes, she will have written bang off!" Owen cheerfully conceded.!

"Oh yes, she will have written bang off!" Owen cheerfully conceded. "A great mistake! That's all right." He spoke—it wasn't clear to her why—as if this declaration were a great point gained.

"I'm completely at your service." Owen held out his hand to Fleda. "Good-bye, Miss Vetch. I hope to see you again to-morrow." He opened the door for Mrs. Brigstock, who passed before the girl with an oblique, averted salutation. Owen and Fleda, while he stood at the door, then faced each other darkly and without speaking. Their eyes met once more for a long moment, and she was conscious there was something in hers that the darkness didn't quench, that he had never seen before and that he was perhaps never to see again. He stayed long enough to take it—to take it with a sombre stare that just showed the dawn of wonder; then he followed Mrs. Brigstock out of the house. "You won't wait for what we may hear?" Mrs. Gereth asked. "Come round?"