thing assurance that she also was guiltless of looking hot and fine.
They had had no talk as yet, but this was a note that would effectually
introduce them if the girl should show herself in the least conscious of
their community. She got up from her seat with a smile that but partly
dissipated the prostration Mrs. Gereth had recognized in her attitude.
The elder woman drew her down again, and for a minute, as they sat
together, their eyes met and sent out mutual soundings. "Are you safe?
Can I utter it?" each of them said to the other, quickly recognizing,
almost proclaiming, their common need to escape. The tremendous fancy,
as it came to be called, that Mrs. Gereth was destined to take to Fleda
Vetch virtually began with this discovery that the poor child had been
moved to flight even more promptly than herself. That the poor child no
less quickly perceived how far she could now go was proved by the
immense friendliness with which she instantly broke out: "Isn't it too
dreadful?"

"Horrible--horrible!" cried Mrs. Gereth, with a laugh, "and it's really
a comfort to be able to say it." She had an idea, for it was her
ambition, that she successfully made a secret of that awkward oddity,
her proneness to be rendered unhappy by the presence of the dreadful.
Her passion for the exquisite was the cause of this, but it was a
passion she considered that she never advertised nor gloried in,
contenting herself with letting it regulate her steps and show quietly
in her life, remembering at all times that there are few things more
soundless than a deep devotion. She was therefore struck with the
acuteness of the little girl who had already put a finger on her hidden
spring. What was dreadful now, what was horrible, was the intimate
ugliness of Waterbath, and it was of that phenomenon these ladies talked
while they sat in the shade and drew refreshment from the great tranquil
sky, from which no blue saucers were suspended. It was an ugliness
fundamental and systematic, the result of the abnormal nature of the
Brigstocks, from whose composition the principle of taste had been
extravagantly omitted. In the arrangement of their home some other
principle, remarkably active, but uncanny and obscure, had operated
instead, with consequences depressing to behold, consequences that took
the form of a universal futility. The house was bad in all conscience,
but it might have passed if they had only let it alone. This saving
mercy was beyond