"That's your great feeling about him," Fleda said; "but how, after what has happened, can it be his about you?" Fleda saw perfectly, and, with a face in which she flattered herself that nothing of this vision appeared, gave him her hand and said: "Good-bye, good-bye."!

"That you had had a long talk with me, without seeing your mother at all?" "I can't tell you what it is to me to feel you on my side!" Owen exclaimed.

"That can hardly have removed her impression that there are things I put you up to." "Oh no, not everything; I saw how little I could get into this scrap of a house. I only brought away what I required." "No, but he has told you. That's better still!" laughed Mrs. Gereth. "My dear child," she went on with an air that affected the girl as a sort of blind profanity, "don't try to make yourself out better than you are. I know what you are. I haven't lived with you so much for nothing. You're not quite a saint in heaven yet. Lord, what a creature you'd have thought me in my good time! But you do like it, fortunately, you idiot. You're pale with your passion, you sweet thing. That's exactly what I wanted to see. I can't for the life of me think where the shame comes in." Then with a finer significance, a look that seemed to Fleda strange, she added: "It's all right."