“What else!”
“Nay—that's for you to show. What flowers do you imagine came out of the rod of Moses's brother?”
“Scarlet runners, I should think if he'd got to live on them.”
“Scarlet enough, I'll bet.”
Aaron turned unnoticing back to his music. Lilly finished the wiping of the dishes, then took a book and sat on the other side of the table.
“It's all one to you, then,” said Aaron suddenly, “whether we ever see one another again?”
“Not a bit,” said Lilly, looking up over his spectacles. “I very much wish there might be something that held us together.”
“Then if you wish it, why isn't there?”
“You might wish your flute to put out scarlet-runner flowers at the joints.”
“Ay—I might. And it would be all the same.”