would have wondered of what fault the girl had been or had indeed not been guilty. But Owen had from a boy never cared, had never had the least pride or pleasure in his home.
"Well, then, if he doesn't care—!" Fleda exclaimed with some impetuosity; stopping short, however, before she completed her sentence.
Mrs. Gereth looked at her rather hard. "If he doesn't care?"
Fleda hesitated; she had not quite had a definite idea. "Well—he'll give them up."
"Give what up?"
"Why, those beautiful things."
"Give them up to whom?" Mrs. Gereth more boldly stared.
"To you, of course—to enjoy, to keep for yourself."
"And leave his house as bare as your hand? There's nothing in it that isn't precious."
Fleda considered; her friend had taken her up with a smothered ferocity by which she was slightly disconcerted. "I don't mean of course that he should surrender everything; but he might let you pick out the things to which you're most attached."
"I think he would if he were free," said Mrs. Gereth.
"And do you mean, as it is, that she'll prevent him?" Mona Brigstock, between these ladies, was now nothing but "she."
"By every means in her power."
