"So much the better, if it's the kind of one you desire." That was the most she could say, and having made it sound as dry as possible she lapsed into a silence so pointed as to deprive him of all pretext for not leaving her. Still, nevertheless, he stood there, playing with his hat and filling the long pause with a strained and anxious smile. He wished to obey her thoroughly, to appear not to presume on any advantage he had won from her; but there was clearly something he longed for beside. While he showed this by hanging on she thought of two other things. One of these was that his countenance, after all, failed to bear out his description of his bliss. As for the other, it had no sooner come into her head than she found it seated, in spite of her resolution, on her lips. It took the form of an inconsequent question. "When did you say Mrs. Brigstock was to have gone back?" "I'm not talking of disgust; I'm talking of its opposite," said Mrs. Gereth.!

Mrs. Gereth stared as at some gross material ravage. "Another footing? What other footing?" "On the occasion, at papa's, that Mrs. Brigstock told you of, and one day, since then, down at Maggie's."

He had laughed at his way of putting it, but Fleda remained grave. "Is that what you came to say to her?" "Fancy your putting a question so indelicate? I should have put it—I mean in your place; but I'm quite coarse, thank God!" Fleda felt privately that she herself was coarse, or at any rate would presently have to be; and Mrs. Gereth, with a purpose that struck the girl as increasing, continued: "What, then, was the day to be? Wasn't it just one of these?" "How can I get at him? He'll come when he's ready," Fleda replied.