"When I got into this I didn't know you, and now that I know you how can I tell you the difference? And she's so different, so ugly and vulgar, in the light of this squabble. No, like you I've never known one. It's another thing, it's a new thing altogether. Listen to me a little: can't something be done?" It was what had been in the air in those moments at Kensington, and it only wanted words to be a committed act. The more reason, to the girl's excited mind, why it shouldn't have words; her one thought was not to hear, to keep the act uncommitted. She would do this if she had to be horrid. "Only that she left me thinking she had got something."!

Owen's face, at this, showed a reviving dread, the fear of some darksome process of her mind. "If you speak for yourself I can understand, but why is it hideous for me?" "Then why doesn't he marry her? He's giving you an extraordinary chance."

Fleda vaguely demurred. "His dreadful quarrel?" "No, I won't receive him here with you. Only where I received him last—only there again." She showed her companion that as to that she was firm. "I don't give it up—I never did," Fleda returned.