"Why must I?" Fleda asked after a moment.
"Because you were closeted with him here so long. You can't pretend at present, you know, not to have any art."
The girl hesitated an instant; she was conscious that she must choose between two risks. She had had a secret and the secret was gone. Owen had one, which was still unbruised, and the greater risk now was that his mother should lay her formidable hand upon it. All Fleda's tenderness for him moved her to protect it; so she faced the smaller peril. "Their delay," she brought herself to reply, "may perhaps be Mona's doing. I mean because he has lost her the things."
Mrs. Gereth jumped at this. "So that she'll break altogether if I keep them?"
Fleda winced. "I've told you what I believe about that. She'll make scenes and conditions; she'll worry him. But she'll hold him fast; she'll never give him up."
Mrs. Gereth turned it over. "Well, I'll keep them to try her," she finally pronounced; at which Fleda felt quite sick, as if to have given everything and got nothing.
