“Has he been with you?” I asked instantly, leaving her no time to prevaricate.
“With me!” she exclaimed, so scandalised and incredulous that the worst of my qualm was laid on the spot.
Without another word I held out my hand. Without a word she put the paper into it. I took it, and read—
“Mignonette, Mignonette,
Of all flowers the pet,”—
(“O, shameful!” I whispered, and set my lips.)
“O, beautiful, beautiful, sweet Mignonette!
Dear, kind little blossom,
Soft, soft in the bosom,
Who gives to thee, takes from thee, sweet Mignonette?