"Please let me out, Mr. Gereth," she said; on which he opened the door with an hesitation so very brief that in thinking of these things afterwards—for she was to think of them forever—she wondered in what tone she could have spoken. They went into the hall, where she encountered the parlor-maid, of whom she inquired whether Mrs. Gereth had come in. Fleda paid this statement the homage of a minute's muteness. "As to that, naturally, she has reason."!

Fleda thought an instant. "Anything in the wide world you may require." "Burning still, miss. Ain't it quite too dreadful? Took early this morning—the whole place is up there."

She came out on the platform: everywhere she met the smoke. She covered her face with her hands. "I'll go back." This was more peremptory than any word her friend, though often speaking in her presence with much point, had ever yet directly addressed to her. It affected her like the crack of a whip, but she confined herself, with an effort, to taking it as a reminder that she must keep her head. "I know he has his engagement to carry out." "She didn't know I want you, my dear. It's a wonder, with all my violence—the gross publicity I've given my desires. But she's as stupid as an owl—she doesn't feel your charm."