In the place at the corner, on the chance of its saving time, Fleda
wrote her telegram--wrote it in silence under Mrs. Gereth's eye and then
in silence handed it to her. "I send this to Waterbath, on the
possibility of your being there, to ask you to come to me." Mrs. Gereth
held it a moment, read it more than once; then keeping it, and with her
eyes on her companion, seemed to consider. There was the dawn of a
kindness in her look; Fleda perceived in it, as if as the reward of
complete submission, a slight relaxation of her rigor.
"Wouldn't it perhaps after all be better," she asked, "before doing
this, to see if we can make his whereabouts certain?"
"Why so? It will be always so much done," said Fleda. "Though I'm poor,"
she added with a smile, "I don't mind the shilling."
"The shilling's _my_ shilling," said Mrs. Gereth.