The other visitor meanwhile turned to Fleda. "What is Mrs. Gereth going
to do?"

"Is that what you came to ask me?" Fleda demanded.

"That and several other things."

"Then you had much better let Mr. Gereth go, and stay by yourself and
make me a pleasant visit. You can talk with him when you like, but it is
the first time you've been to see me."

This appeal had evidently a certain effect; Mrs. Brigstock visibly
wavered. "I can't talk with him whenever I like," she returned; "he
hasn't been near us since I don't know when. But there are things that
have brought me here."

"They are not things of any importance," Owen, to Fleda's surprise,
suddenly asserted. He had not at first taken up Mrs. Brigstock's
expression of a wish to carry him off: Fleda could see that the instinct
at the bottom of this was that of standing by her, of seeming not to
abandon her. But abruptly, all his soreness working within him, it had
struck him that he should abandon her still more if he should leave her
to be dealt with by her other visitor. "You must allow me to say, you
know, Mrs. Brigstock, that I don't think you should come down on Miss
Vetch about anything. It's very good of her to take the smallest
interest in us and our horrid little squabble. If you want to talk about
it, talk about it with _me_." He was flushed with the idea of protecting
Fleda, of exhibiting his consideration for her. "I don't like your
cross-questioning her, don't you see? She's as straight as a die: _I_'ll
tell you all about her!" he declared with an excited laugh. "Please come
off with me and let her alone."

Mrs. Brigstock, at this, became vivid at once; Fleda thought she looked
most peculiar. She stood straight up, with a queer distention of her
whole person and of everything in her face but her mouth, which she
gathered into a small, tight orifice. Fleda was painfully divided; her
joy was deep within, but it was more relevant to the situation that she
should not appear to associate herself with the tone of familiarity in
which Owen addressed a lady who had been, and was perhaps still, about
to become his mother-in-law. She laid on Mrs. Brigstock's arm a
repressive hand. Mrs. Brigstock, however, had already exclaimed on her
having so wonderful a defender. "He speaks, upon my word, as if I had
come here to be rude to you!"

At this, grasping her hard, Fleda laughed; then she achieved the exploit
of delicately kissing her. "I'm not in the least afrai