"That can hardly have removed her impression that there are things I put you up to."
"It didn't," Owen replied with candour. "She said our relation, yours and mine, isn't innocent."
"What did she mean by that?"
"As you may suppose, I particularly inquired. Do you know what she had the cheek to tell me?" Owen asked. "She didn't better it much. She said she meant that it's excessively unnatural."
Fleda considered afresh. "Well, it is!" she brought out at last.
"Then, upon my honour, it's only you who make it so!" Her perversity was distinctly too much for him. "I mean you make it so by the way you keep me off."
"Have I kept you off to-day?" Fleda sadly shook her head, raising her arms a little and dropping them.
Her gesture of resignation gave him a pretext for catching at her hand, but before he could take it she had put it behind her. They had been seated together on Maggie's single sofa, and her movement brought her to her feet while Owen, looking at her reproachfully, leaned back in discouragement. "What good does it do me to be here when I find you only a stone?"
She met his eyes with all the tenderness she had not yet uttered, and she had not known till this moment how great was the accumulation. "Perhaps, after all," she risked, "there may be even in a stone still some little help for you."
