a racket.
"Good catch!" Owen had cried, so genuinely pleased that practically no
notice was taken of his mother's impressive remarks. It was to the
accompaniment of romping laughter, as Mrs. Gereth afterwards said, that
the carriage had rolled away; but it was while that laughter was still
in the air that Fleda Vetch, white and terrible, had turned upon her
hostess with her scorching "How _could_ you? Great God, how _could_
you?" This lady's perfect blankness was from the first a sign of her
serene conscience, and the fact that till indoctrinated she didn't even
know what Fleda meant by resenting her late offense to every
susceptibility gave our young woman a sore, scared perception that her
own value in the house was just the value, as one might say, of a good
agent. Mrs. Gereth was generously sorry, but she was still more
surprised--surprised at Fleda's not having liked to be shown off to Owen
as the right sort of wife for him. Why not, in the name of wonder, if
she absolutely _was_ the right sort? She had admitted on explanation
that she could see what her young friend meant by having been laid, as
Fleda called it, at his feet; but it struck the girl that the admission
was only made to please her, and that Mrs. Gereth was secretly surprised
at her not being as happy to be sacrificed to the supremacy of a high
standard as she was happy to sacrifice her. She had taken a tremendous
fancy to her, but that was on account of the fancy--to Poynton of
course--Fleda herself had taken. Wasn't this latter fancy then so great
after all? Fleda felt that she could declare it to be great indeed when
really for the sake of it she could forgive what she had suffered and,
after reproaches and tears, asseverations and kisses, after learning
that she was cared for only as a priestess of the altar and a view of
her bruised dignity which left no alternative to flight, could accept
the shame with the balm, consent not to depart, take refuge in the thin
comfort of at least knowing the truth. The truth was simply that all
Mrs. Gereth's scruples were on one side and that her ruling passion had
in a manner despoiled her of her humanity. On the second day, after the
tide of emotion had somewhat ebbed, she said soothingly to her
companion: "But you _would_, after all, marry him, you know, darling,
wouldn't you, if that girl were not there? I mean of course if he were
to ask you," Mrs. Gereth had thoughtfully added.

"Marry him if he were to ask