"Picking flowers! What mockery! Lanny's plan—mow them down! mow them down! mow them down!" she went on, more to herself than to him, as she dropped the chrysanthemums on the veranda table.
In a fire of resolution she hastened back down the terrace steps. The Grays and the Browns were fighting in their way for their causes; she must fight in her way for hers. Stopping before Feller, she seemed taller than her usual self and quivering with impatience.
"Have you connected the wire to the telephone yet?" she asked abruptly.
"No, not yet," he answered.
"Then please come with me to the tower!"
Whatever his fears, he held them within the serene bounds of the gardener's personality, while his covert glimpse of her warned him against the mistake of trying to dam the current of a passion running so strong.
"Certainly, Miss Galland," he said agreeably, quite as if there were nothing unusual in her attitude. No word passed between them as he kept pace with her rapid gait along the path, but out of the corner of his eye he surveyed in measuring admiration and curiosity the straight line of nose and forehead under its heavy crown of hair, with a few detached and riotous tendrils.
"Bring a lantern!" she said, as they entered his sitting-room, in a way that left no excuse for refusal.
When he had brought the lantern she took it from his hand and led the way into the tunnel.
"Please make the connection so that I can speak to Lanny!" she instructed him after she had pressed the button and the panel door of the telephone recess flew open.