He took the lilies up daintily, and returned to her.
"Oh, how could you!" she murmured, as he put them into her hand.
He looked at her in amused astonishment. "Why, aren't they right?"
They were as clean clipped off and as perfect as if the daintiest hand had plucked them.
"Oh, yes," she admitted, "they're lovely, but I don't like the way you got them."
"I took the means I had," he objected.
"I don't think I like it."
His whole face was sparkling with interest and amusement. "Is that so? Why not?"
"You're too—too"—she cast about for the word—"too terribly resourceful!"