Owen's legs, not to mention his voice, had wavered while he spoke, and she felt his possession of her hand loosen so that she was free again. Her stare of perception broke into a lively laugh. "Oh, you're all right, for you will get them. You will; you're quite safe; don't worry!" She fell back into the house with her hand on the door. "Good-bye, good-bye." She repeated it several times, laughing bravely, quite waving him away and, as he didn't move and save that he was on the other side of it, closing the door in his face quite as he had closed that of the drawing-room in hers. Never had a face, never at least had such a handsome one, been so presented to that offense. She even held the door a minute, lest he should try to come in again. At last, as she heard nothing, she made a dash for the stairs and ran up. Fleda hesitated. "You mean their marriage?"!

"I remembered how you had tied my hands about saying a word to Owen." "You know better than I," said Fleda, speaking with high extravagance.

"Then why doesn't she do it?" "Well, was it I, pray, who perpetrated the wrong? Ain't I doing what I can to get the thing arranged?" "I don't want to see any letter," said Fleda. "You'll miss your train."