"Just a whim," said Madame de Vigerie, turning away.
"I believe I can read your mind," said Armand slowly. "Laurence, you are like a bird of the woods. You will not come to any man's whistling, and it means too much to you to wear a favour."
She turned on him half grave, half gay. "Mon ami, you have guessed right. But I love your flowers ... I love to have them near me. I will do anything but wear them."
"And some day," said the young man softly, "you will do that. Or am I never to hope for it, Laurence?"
"No," she said, "I shall never wear them." But she did not meet his eyes.
"But if you ever did..."
"O, suppose that I wore the stars as a necklace!" cried she. "It is as likely."
"But if you ever did," persisted Armand. "Laurence, if you ever did..."
"Yes," she said, turning very pale....
(3)