Again our young lady reflected. "I think I'm rather glad you didn't." "They're married?"!

"You won't wait for what we may hear?" Mrs. Gereth asked. "Because you were closeted with him here so long. You can't pretend at present, you know, not to have any art."

"Yes, that's what I understood from you at Ricks," said Fleda; "but I haven't repeated it to your mother." She had hated, at Ricks, to talk with him about Mona, but now that scruple was swept away. If he could speak of Mona's visit as fatal, she need at least not pretend not to notice it. It made all the difference that she had tried to assist him and had failed: to give him any faith in her service she must give him all her reasons but one. She must give him, in other words, with a corresponding omission, all Mrs. Gereth's. "You can easily see that, as she dislikes your marriage, anything that may seem to make it less certain works in her favor. Without my telling her, she has suspicions and views that are simply suggested by your delay. Therefore it didn't seem to me right to make them worse. By holding off long enough, she thinks she may put an end to your engagement. If Mona's waiting, she believes she may at last tire Mona out." That, in all conscience, Fleda felt was lucid enough. "It has lasted long enough for my purpose. There was something I wanted to know, but I think I know it now." "And do you mean, as it is, that she'll prevent him?" Mona Brigstock, between these ladies, was now nothing but "she."