She was in a fever of ingenuity and painfully conscious, on behalf of her success, that her fever was visible. She could herself see the reflection of it glitter in Mrs. Gereth's sombre eyes. "They've looked very beautiful, and they've been very beautiful. Oh, I've told her the sort you are!" the young man pursued.!

Fleda shook her head wearily. "No—I was only in love with him!" "Certainly I'm sure, with all the evidence I already have. That will finish her!" Owen declared.

"I dare say they are—or that Mona is." Mrs. Gereth reflected again; she had a bright idea. "If I don't give in, I'll be hanged if she'll not break off." "You mean, even if she doesn't let you off? Ah, you ask me too much!" Fleda spoke from the tiny hall, where she had taken refuge between the old barometer and the old mackintosh. "There are things too utterly for yourselves alone. How can I tell? What do I know? Good-bye, good-bye! If she doesn't let you off, it will be because she is attached to you." "If she does take it ill of you."