Page:The Spoils of Poynton (London, William Heinemann, 1897).djvu/213

Rh you make me talk! You have pleased me, and you've been right and good, and it's the only comfort, and you must go. Everything must come from Mona, and if it doesn't come we've said entirely too much. You must leave me alone—forever."

"Forever?" Owen gasped.

"I mean unless everything is different."

"Everything is different, when I know you!"

Fleda winced at his knowledge; she made a wild gesture which seemed to whirl it out of the room. The mere allusion was like another embrace. "You don't know me—you don't—and you must go and wait! You mustn't break down at this point."

He looked about him and took up his hat: it was as if in spite of frustration he had got the essence of what he wanted and could afford to agree with her to the extent of keeping up the forms. He covered her with his fine, simple smile, but made no other approach. "Oh, I'm so awfully happy!" he exclaimed. She hesitated: she would only be impeccable even though she should have to be sententious. "You'll be happy if you're perfect!" she risked.

He laughed out at this, and she wondered if, with a new-born acuteness, he saw the absurdity of her speech and that no one was happy just because no one could be what she so easily prescribed. "I don't pretend to be perfect, but I shall find a letter to-night!"