"I love marguerites," I replied, with a smile. I was master of my features again then.
"So do I. To me they stand for simplicity, truth, trust and candour, especially between friends—such as, say, you and myself, Christabel."
We exchanged looks; mine smiling; his grave, very gentle, and a little reproachful.
CHAPTER XXV
ON THE THRESHOLD
His Excellency had at times some very pretty ways. He stepped through the window now, and, plucking three or four of the finest marguerites, offered them to me.
"You will accept them—in the sense I have just indicated?" he asked.
"You punish tactfully, General. I suppose you think the rebuke is warranted. I would rather you gave them to me—to-morrow, say;" and I turned from the window and sat down.
He laid the blossoms on the table. "We will leave them until our chat is over. I hope you will take them then."