"By not looking like a fool!" cried Mrs. Gereth very sharply. She kissed her, however, on the spot, to make up for this roughness, and summarily took off her hat, which, on coming into the house, our young lady had not removed. She applied a friendly touch to the girl's hair and gave a businesslike pull to her jacket. "I say don't look like an idiot, because you happen not to be one, not the least bit. _I_'m idiotic; I've been so, I've just discovered, ever since our first days together. I've been a precious donkey; but that's another affair." Fleda, as if she humbly assented, went through no form of controverting this; she simply stood passive to her companion's sudden refreshment of her appearance. "How _can_ I get him away from her?" she presently demanded. "By letting yourself go." "By letting myself go?" She spoke mechanically, still more like an idiot, and felt as if her face flamed out the insincerity of her question. It was vividly back again, the vision of the real way to act upon Mrs. Gereth. This lady's movements were now rapid; she turned off from her as quickly as she had seized her, and Fleda sat down to steady herself for full responsibility. Her hostess, without taking up her ejaculation, gave a violent poke at the fire and then faced her again. "You've done two things, then, to-day--haven't you?--that you've never done before. One has been asking me the service, or favor, or concession--whatever you call it--that you just mentioned; the other has been telling me--certainly too for the first time--an immense little fib." "An immense little fib?" Fleda felt weak; she was glad of the support of her seat.