"I'm only thinking she'll be impatient—I mean, you know, to learn what will have passed between us." "That can hardly have removed her impression that there are things I put you up to."!

"She's not, she's not: there's nothing in it! Doesn't a fellow know?—except with you!" Owen ruefully added. With this he came out of the room, lowering his voice to secret supplication, pleading with her really to meet him on the ground of the negation of Mona. It was this betrayal of his need of support and sanction that made her retreat—harden herself in the effort to save what might remain of all she had given, given probably for nothing. The very vision of him as he thus morally clung to her was the vision of a weakness somewhere in the core of his bloom, a blessed manly weakness of which, if she had only the valid right, it would be all a sweetness to take care. She faintly sickened, however, with the sense that there was as yet no valid right poor Owen could give. "You can take it from my honor, you know," he whispered, "that she loathes me." "Very well, then. Will you wait?"

Mrs. Gereth stared as at some gross material ravage. "Another footing? What other footing?" She felt sick; she sank upon a seat, staring up at him. "Do you mean that great house is lost?" "Not in any way?"