eyes, where, as with the effect of a blow in the face, she quickly felt the tears gathering. It was a sudden drop in her great flight, a shock to her attempt to watch over what Mona was entitled to. While she had been straining her very soul in this attempt the object of her magnanimity had been practically pronouncing her vile. She took it all in, however, and after an instant was able to speak with a smile. She would not have been surprised to learn indeed that her smile was strange. "You had said a while ago that your mother and I quarrelled about you. It's much more true that you and Mona have quarrelled about me."
Owen hesitated, but at last he brought it out. "What I mean to say is, don't you know, that Mona, if you don't mind my saying so, has taken it into her head to be jealous."
"I see," said Fleda. "Well, I dare say our conferences have looked very odd."
"They've looked very beautiful, and they've been very beautiful. Oh, I've told her the sort you are!" the young man pursued.
"That of course hasn't made her love me better."
"No, nor love me," said Owen. "Of course, you know, she says—as far as that goes—that she loves me."
"And do you say you love her?"
"I say nothing else—I say it all the while. I said it the other day a dozen times." Fleda made no immediate rejoinder to this, and before she could
