“There’s no fear of that,” said Jack. “As for repayment, I hope you won’t mention it again.”
“I’ll have to give it you in good wishes.”
The basket of roses stood on the table. Jack looked at the beautifully blended colours, and stooped to smell the sweet perfume. “I’ll take one of these,” he said, “—the one you like the best.”
The girl took a bud of La Rosiere, dark, velvety, fragrant, perfect. “I’m in love with them all,” she said, “but this is my favourite.”
She handed the bud to Jack, who put it in the button-hole of his worn and shabby coat.
“Thanks,” he said, “I’m more than repaid.”
Sartoris burst out laughing.
“Don’t you feel a bit in the way, Summerhayes?” he said. “I do. When these young things exchange love-tokens, it’s time we went into the next room.”
“No,” laughed the Pilot, “we won’t budge. The gal gets twenty-pound worth of gold, and offers a rose in return. It’s a beautiful flower, no doubt; but how would a slice of mutton go, after ‘damper’ and ‘billy’ tea? Rosebud, my gal, go and get Mr. Scarlett something to eat.”
Joining in the laugh, Rose went into her kitchen, and Jack commenced to pack up his gold, in order that the table might be laid for dinner.