She drew apart from him and went back to her chair. But there she stretched out her hands to him and Osmond took them, and so, holding them, they spoke out their true minds. Her eyes were brimming full.
"I wasn't sure you would take my present," she said. "It's dear of you to take it, Osmond."
"Your love, your wonderful love!"
"I selected it with great care, dear." She was laughing. "It's very shiny, and nice, and warranted to last. It's the strongest love I could find. I never saw one like it. Shall we live in the playhouse now, dear?"
"You will live in my heart. Rose, I kissed you."
She bent to him.
"Kiss me again. Kisses are little blooms budding out of my love. You are a gardener-man. You know the faster flowers are picked, the sooner they bloom again."
He was regarding her in wonder.
"You must be crazy to think you like me!" he said honestly. Again she laughed.
"I am! stark mad. I feel as if a thousand birds were singing and all the lilies opening: You remember how they smelled that night, Osmond? You wouldn't go with me to smell them. They've come to us. They're here."