“Why not?” she said, wonderingly. “Were you going to say, will I give you something to help you to remember?”
“Yes, I will. What shall I give you?” and she looked around.
Jack looked at her. His bad angel whispered in his ear, “Ask her to give you a kiss,” but Jack metaphorically kicked him out of hearing.
“Give me a flower,” he said, and his voice was as gentle as its deep ringing bass could be.
Una nodded, and plucking a dog rose held it out to him.
“There,” she said; “at least you will remember it as long as the rose lasts. But it soon dies,” and she sighed.
Jack took it and looked at it hard. Then he put it to his lips.
“There is no smell to a dog rose,” said Una.
“Ah no! I forgot. Just so. Well, good-by. We may shake hands, Una. That is your name, isn’t it? How do you spell it?”
“U—n—a,” she said, giving him her hand.