a speck off the crown of his hat. "But if you do have a set-to with her?"
He paused so long for a reply that Fleda said "I don't think I know what you mean by a set-to.
"Well, if she calls you names."
"I don't think she'll do that."
"What I mean to say is, if she's angry at your backing me up—what will you do then? She can't possibly like it, you know."
"She may very well not like it; but everything depends. I must see what I shall do. You mustn't worry about me."
She spoke with decision, but Owen seemed still unsatisfied. "You won't go away, I hope?"
"Go away?"
"If she does take it ill of you."
Fleda moved to the door and opened it. "I'm not prepared to say. You must have patience and see."
"Of course I must," said Owen—"of course, of course." But he took no more advantage of the open door than to say: "You want me to be off, and I'm off in a minute. Only, before I go, please answer me a question. If you should leave my mother, where would you go?"
Fleda smiled again. "I haven't the least idea."
"I suppose you'd go back to London."
"I haven't the least idea," Fleda repeated.
"You don't—a—live anywhere in particular, do you?" the young man went on. He looked conscious as soon as he had spoken; she could
