Fleda turned away. "Thank you." "I'm not talking of disgust; I'm talking of its opposite," said Mrs. Gereth.!

"To send them back—to keep it quiet." The girl had not felt the impulse to ask him to sit down among the monuments of his wrong, so that, nervously, awkwardly, he fidgeted about the room with his hands in his pockets and an effect of returning a little into possession through the formulation of his view. "To have them packed and dispatched again, since she knows so well how. She does it beautifully"—he looked close at two or three precious pieces. "What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander!" "I couldn't stand the way she treated you, and that was what I had to say to her," Owen returned.

"What do you call the open, Mrs. Gereth?" Fleda demanded. Then as the other faltered: "Do you know where Mr. Owen is to-day?" "She'll never, never break off!" said Fleda. "That you had had a long talk with me, without seeing your mother at all?"