looked at her quiet face, which the appearance of slumber always
made particularly handsome; she noted how much the ordeal of the last
few weeks had added to its indications of age. "Well then, try me with
something. What is it you demand?"

At this, opening her eyes, Mrs. Gereth sprang straight up. "Get him away
from her!"

Fleda marveled: her companion had in an instant become young again.
"Away from Mona? How in the world--?"

"By not looking like a fool!" cried Mrs. Gereth very sharply. She kissed
her, however, on the spot, to make up for this roughness, and summarily
took off her hat, which, on coming into the house, our young lady had
not removed. She applied a friendly touch to the girl's hair and gave a
businesslike pull to her jacket. "I say don't look like an idiot,
because you happen not to be one, not the least bit. _I_'m idiotic; I've
been so, I've just discovered, ever since our first days together. I've
been a precious donkey; but that's another affair."

Fleda, as if she humbly assented, went through no form of controverting
this; she simply stood passive to her companion's sudden refreshment of
her appearance. "How _can_ I get him away from her?" she presently
demanded.

"By letting yourself go."

"By letting myself go?" She spoke mechanically, still more like an
idiot, and felt as if her face flamed out the insincerity of her
question. It was vividly back again, the vision of the real way to act
upon Mrs. Gereth. This lady's movements were now rapid; she turned off
from her as quickly as she had seized her, and Fleda sat down to steady
herself for full responsibility.

Her hostess, without taking up her ejaculation, gave a violent poke at
the fire and then faced her again. "You've done two things, then,
to-day--haven't you?--that you've never done before. One has been asking
me the service, or favor, or concession--whatever you call it--that you
just mentioned; the other has been telling me--certainly too for the
first time--an immense little fib."

"An immense little fib?" Fleda felt weak; she was glad of the support of
her seat.

"An immense big one, then!" said Mrs. Gereth irritatedly. "You don't in
the least 'hate' Owen, my darling. You care for him very much. In fact,
my own, you're in love with him--there! Don't tell me any more lies!"
cried Mrs. Gereth with a voice and a face in the presence of which Fleda
recognized that there was nothing for her but to hold herself and take
them.