'I went for a bicycle ride yesterday and plucked these flowers for you, hoping you wouldn't mind accepting them. If you have a moment's time to give me, I wonder if you would let me call and see you one day?
'Sincerely yours,
'F. J. RAGGETT
'P.S.—I'm extremely busy, but am free at any time. Perhaps tomorrow might suit you? Or if you're engaged tomorrow, perhaps today? I would ask you to ring me up and kindly let me know, but I'm not on the telephone.'
Edith was amused, but also a little bored. Ever since the dinner at the Savoy, now a fortnight ago, Raggett had been showing furtive signs of a wild admiration for her, at the same time hedging absurdly by asking her to tell him when he might call and giving no address, and by (for instance) pretending he had plucked the flowers himself, evidently not knowing that they had been sent with her address written on a card printed with the name of Cooper's Stores in the Edgware Road.
She never knew how Bruce would take things, so she had not said anything about it to him yet. He seemed to have forgotten the existence of Raggett, and never mentioned him now.
She arranged the flowers in some blue and white china vases, and sat down by the window in the little drawing-room. She had before her, until Bruce would come home to dinner, two of those empty hours which all young married women in her position have known. There was nothing to do. Archie was still out, and she was tired of reading, and disliked needlework.
She had just come back from seeing Hyacinth. How full and interesting her life seemed! At any rate, she had everything before her. Edith felt as if she herself were locked up in a box. Even her endless patience with Bruce was beginning to pall a little.
As she was thinking these things she heard a ring, and the maid came in and said—
'It's the gentleman that left the flowers, and could you see him for a minute?'