"To you, of course—to enjoy, to keep for yourself." "The case," said Fleda coldly, "is as I've had the honor to state it."!

"I dare say he thinks it may come to that." Fleda gave a bold dramatic laugh. "Thank you, my love—with all the best things at Ricks!"

The remark was disastrous. Mrs. Brigstock, on whom her brightness was lost, evidently thought it singularly free. She turned away, as from a presence that had really defined itself as objectionable, and Fleda had a vain sense that her good humor, in which there was an idea, was taken for impertinence, or at least for levity. Her allusion was improper, even if she herself wasn't; Mrs. Brigstock's emotion simplified: it came to the same thing. "I'm quite ready," that lady said to Owen rather mildly and woundedly. "I do want to speak to you very much." "It has lasted long enough for my purpose. There was something I wanted to know, but I think I know it now." "Quite right. There's nothing like them," said Mrs. Gereth. At this her companion took up one of her hands again and kissed it as she had done in London. "Mona went back that night; she was not there yesterday. Owen stayed on," she added.