Fleda wondered. "And did you remember the little letter that, with your hands tied, you still succeeded in writing to him?" "The old things?" Fleda considered again. "It will do no good of any sort to anything or any one. That's another question I would rather we shouldn't discuss, please," she gently added.!

"You know better than I," said Fleda, speaking with high extravagance. Fleda considered afresh. "Well, it is!" she brought out at last.

"Certainly," the girl resolutely answered. "I don't see why you should talk as if one had a petty mind. You don't think so. It's not on that assumption you've ever dealt with me. I can do your son justice, as he put his case to me." "For what do you take me? I wasn't such a donkey." "I say nothing else—I say it all the while. I said it the other day a dozen times." Fleda made no immediate rejoinder to this, and before she could choose one he repeated his question of a moment before. "Am I to tell my solicitor to act?"