ue?" Fleda murmured.

"I remembered how you had tied my hands about saying a word to Owen."

Fleda wondered. "And did you remember the little letter that, with your
hands tied, you still succeeded in writing to him?"

"Perfectly; my little letter was a model of reticence. What I remembered
was all that in those few words I forbade myself to say. I had been an
angel of delicacy--I had effaced myself like a saint. It was not for me
to have done all that and then figure to such a woman as having done the
opposite. Besides, it was none of her business."

"Is that what you said to her?" Fleda asked.

"I said to her that her question revealed a total misconception of the
nature of my present relations with my son. I said to her that I had no
relations with him at all, and that nothing had passed between us for
months. I said to her that my hands were spotlessly clean of any attempt
to make him make up to you. I said to her that I had taken from Poynton
what I had a right to take, but had done nothing else in the world. I
was determined that if I had bit my tongue off to oblige you I would at
least have the righteousness that my sacrifice gave me."

"And was Mrs. Brigstock satisfied with your answer?"

"She was visibly relieved."

"It was fortunate for you," said Fleda, "that she's apparently not aware
of the manner in which, almost under her nose, you advertised me to him
at Poynton."

Mrs. Gereth appeared to recall that scene; she smiled with a serenity
remarkably effective as showing how cheerfully used she had grown to
invidious allusions to it. "How should she be aware of it?"

"She would if Owen had described your outbreak to Mona."

"Yes, but he didn't describe it. All his instinct was to conceal it from
Mona. He wasn't conscious, but he was already in love with you!" Mrs.
Gereth declared.

Fleda shook her head wearily. "No--I was only in love with him!"

Here was a faint illumination with which Mrs. Gereth instantly mingled
her fire. "You dear old wretch!" she exclaimed; and she again, with
ferocity, embraced her young friend.

Fleda submitted like a sick animal: she would submit to everything now.
"Then what further passed?"

"Only that she left me thinking she had got something."

"And what had she got?"

"Nothing but her luncheon. But _I_ got everything!"

"Everything?" Fleda quavered.

Mrs. Gereth, struck apparently by something in her tone, looked at her
from a tremendous height. "Don't fail