Fleda gave a faint, stubborn smile. "He cares for her too much."
"Then why doesn't he marry her? He's giving you an extraordinary chance."
"He doesn't dream I've ever thought of him," said Fleda. "Why should he, if you didn't?"
"It wasn't with me you were in love, my duck." Then Mrs. Gereth added: "I'll go and tell him."
"If you do any such thing you shall never see me again—absolutely, literally never!"
Mrs. Gereth looked hard at her young friend, betraying that she saw she must believe her. "Then you're perverse, you're wicked. Will you swear he doesn't know?"
"Of course he doesn't know!" cried Fleda indignantly.
Her interlocutress was silent a little. "And that he has no feeling on his side?"
"For me?" Fleda stared. "Before he has even married her?"
Mrs. Gereth gave a sharp laugh at this. "He ought at least to appreciate your wit. Oh, my dear, you are a treasure! Doesn't he appreciate anything? Has he given you absolutely no symptom—not looked a look, not breathed a sigh?"
"The case," said Fleda coldly, "is as I've had the honour to state it."
"Then he's as big a donkey as his mother! But you know you must account for their delay," Mrs. Gereth remarked.
