prepared to put, but she had on the spot a foreboding that even so broad a hint would live to be bettered.
"Do you suggest that I shall propose to him to come down here again?" she presently inquired.
"Dear, no; say that you'll go up to town and meet him." It was bettered, the broad hint; and Fleda felt this to be still more the case when, returning to the subject before they went to bed, her companion said: "I make him over to you wholly, you know—to do what you please with. Deal with him in your own clever way—I ask no questions. All I ask is that you succeed."
"That's charming," Fleda replied, "but it doesn't tell me a bit, you'll be so good as to consider, in what terms to write to him. It's not an answer from you to the message I was to give you."
"The answer to his message is perfectly distinct: he shall have everything in the place the minute he'll say he'll marry you."
"You really pretend," Fleda asked, "to think me capable of transmitting him that news?"
"What else can I really pretend, when you threaten so to cast me off if I speak the word myself?"
"Oh, if you speak the word—!" the girl murmured very gravely, but happy at least to know that in this direction Mrs. Gereth confessed herself warned and helpless. Then she added: "How can I go on living with you on a footing of which I so deeply disapprove? Thinking as I do that you've
