"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?"