The reference was to some spring flowers which she had plucked upon arriving and used to fill up her cup of joy, the said cup being one of Mr. Brown's.
"Yes; I thought they were very sweet. In looks, I mean. Especially that blue kind." Then suddenly, as the thought struck her, "But you see so many of them!"
For a moment he looked disconcerted, like a man accused of something. Inquiringly he looked at the flowers, first at the ones which belonged to her, then at the thousands just like them all around.
"But so did you see a great many of them." This was his defense.
"Oh, yes—— Well—but what I meant"—the fact being that she did not know what she meant any more than he knew what he meant—"was—— Of course you would n't pick them for a bouquet, though, would you?"
Instantly she felt that matters had been made worse. It was like offering final proof that he had not admired her flowers, really; and what was his defense?
"Oh, no—I suppose I would n't. That is, not for myself."
It was the first step of his approach!
"Some people do not care for flowers so much as others do," she answered hurriedly. "I have even heard of persons to whom the perfume was offensive; especially in damp, warm weather. Odors are always strongest in damp weather, you know."
It was a relief to feel that she had been able to lead away from it.