"Mine."
"Who sent them?"
"The florist."
"Who paid for them?"
"Nobody as yet. His bill won't be in until the first of the month."
"Who ordered them?"
"I did. Anything more?" She seemed delighted.
He strode over to an open, awninged window and dropped into an invitingly cushioned chair. He was still bearded, still rather leonine, but he was better groomed than in those days in India.
He employed a tailor that was an artist in his craft, and a hair-dresser that was no less so. After a fashion he was almost attractive.
"I am to infer then that there is no present adoring cavalier."