"I wonder whether you have ever seen anything like these, Miss Brock?" he asked, coming up to her. She turned; he had a handful of small, long-stemmed flowers of an exquisite blue.
"How beautiful!" she exclaimed, moved by surprise. "What are they?"
"Desert flowers."
"Such a blue."
"You expressed a regret this morning——"
"Oh, you heard——"
"I overheard——"
"What are they called?"
"I haven't an idea. But once in the Sioux country—" They were at the car-step. "Marie? See here," she called to her sister within.
"Won't you take them?" asked Glover.