Again she studied herself critically.
“Need some kind of ornament for my hair,” she muttered, “but I haven’t got it, and neither do I own beads, bracelet, or a ring; and my ears are sticking right out in the air. I am almost offensively uncovered.”
Then she went down to show herself to a delighted Katy. When the door-bell rang Linda turned toward the hall. Katy reached a detaining hand.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” she said. “I answered the bell for Miss Eileen. Answer the bell I shall for you.”
Down the hall went Katy with the light of battle in her eyes and the air of a conqueror in the carriage of her head. She was well trained. Neither eyelid quivered as she flung the door wide to Peter Morrison. He stood there in dinner dress, more imposing than Katy had thought he could be. With quick, inner exultation she reached for two parcels he carried; over them her delight was so overpowering that Peter Morrison must have seen a hint of it. With a flourish Katy seated him, and carried the packages to Linda. She returned a second later for a big vase, and in this Linda arranged a great sheaf of radiant roses. As Katy started to carry them back to the room, Linda said “Wait a second,” and selecting one half opened, she slipped it out, shortened the stem and tucked it among the coils of hair where she would have set an ornament. The other package was a big box that when opened showed its interior to be divided into compartments in each of which nestled an exquisite flower made of spun sugar. The petals, buds, and leaves were perfect. There were wonderful roses with pale pink outer petals and deeper-coloured hearts. There were pink mallows that seemed as if they must have been cut from the bushes bordering Santa Monica road. There were hollyhocks of white and gold, and simply perfect tulips. Linda never before had seen such a treasure candy box. She cried out in delight, and hurried to show Katy. In her pleasure over the real flowers and the candy flowers Linda forgot her dress, but when she saw Peter Morrison standing tall and straight, in dinner dress, she stopped and looked the surprise and pleasure she felt. She had grown accustomed to Peter in khaki pottering around his building. This Peter she never before had seen. He represented something of culture, something of pride, a conformity to a nice custom and something more. Linda was not a psycho-analyst. She could not see a wonderful aura of exquisite colour enveloping Peter. But when Peter saw the girl approaching him, transformed into a woman whose shining coronet was jewelled with his living red rose, when he saw the beauty of her lithe slenderness clothed in a soft, flaming colour, something emanated from his inner consciousness that Linda did see, and for an instant it disturbed her as she went forward holding out her hands.
“Peter,” she said gaily, “do you know that this is my Day of Jubilee? I am a woman to-day by law, Peter. Hereafter I am to experience at least a moderate degree of financial freedom, and that I shall enjoy. But the greatest thing in life is friends.”
Peter took both the hands extended to him and looked smilingly into her eyes.
“You take my breath,” he said. “I knew, the first glimpse I ever had of you scrambling from the canyon floor, that this transformation could take place. My good fortune is beyond words that I have been first to see it. Permit me, fair lady.”
Peter bent and kissed both her hands. He hesitated a second, then he turned the right hand and left one more kiss in its palm.
“To have and to hold!” he said whimsically.