Fleda was silent a little. "All that didn't answer her question." "Owen—what I've done? I haven't the least idea," said Mrs. Gereth.!

"They may not have known of my leaving." Fleda wondered afresh; it struck her as scarcely supposable that some sign shouldn't have flashed from Poynton to London. If the storm was taking this term of silence to gather, even in Mona's breast, it would probably discharge itself in some startling form. The great hush of every one concerned was strange; but when she pressed Mrs. Gereth for some explanation of it, that lady only replied, with her brave irony: "Oh, I took their breath away!" She had no illusions, however; she was still prepared to fight. What indeed was her spoliation of Poynton but the first engagement of a campaign? Fleda marveled: her companion had in an instant become young again. "Away from Mona? How in the world—?"

Fleda, with a bright face, hesitated a moment. "As if I were one of those bad women in a play?" "Never! But she's none the less his wife, and you're not," said Mrs. Gereth, getting up. "Our only chance is the chance she may die." "I dare say she won't like it at all."