"Eh?" he responded, with a startled look. "Given me up?"
"I have been watching for the carnation all the afternoon."
"Carnation?" he echoed, trying over his abundant chins to get a glimpse of the flower in his buttonhole. "Oh, yes; I generally wear a carnation. They keep, don't you know; and it was always the favorite flower of my wife."
"Your wife?" demanded Miss Calthorpe.
Her cheeks grew crimson, and she drew herself up haughtily.
"Yes," Barnstable replied, looking confused. "That is, of course, she that was my wife."
"I should never have believed," May observed distantly, "that 'Love in a Cloud' could have been written by a widower."
Barnstable began to regard her as if he were in doubt whether she or he himself had lost all trace of reason.
"'Love in a Cloud,'" he repeated, "'Love in a Cloud'? Do you know who wrote that beastly book?"
Her color shot up, and the angry young goddess declared itself in every line of her face. Her pose became instantly a protest.