He saw her with the vase of jonquils in her hand ... and his stout heart failed him a little.
"Mr. West," said Barbara, "some person is annoying me."
"Annoying you?"
"I am continually receiving flowers without card or comment."
"Is it the flowers which annoy you or the lack of comment?"
"I love the flowers, but anything in the shape of anonymity is unfair, and I resent it."
"I can think of cases," said West, "in which a man might properly send flowers without disclosing his identity--just as I may pass a fine statue and praise it, without telling the statue who I am." He smiled.
"Flowers don't resemble statues in the least, and your comparison is unnaturally far-fetched. Another thing, and this annoys me even more: my secretive friend sends flowers from the cheapest florist he can find. I argue from this that he is poor, and cannot afford to send me flowers at all."
"Perhaps his home and business in the city are too far from the Fifth Avenue shops."
"You are not saying gallant things, Mr. West. I--an unprotected young woman--tell you that I am being annoyed by a strange man. Instead of flying into a chivalrous rage and threatening to wring his neck when you catch him, you stand up for him. Very well. I shall set Bubbles to find out who the man is, and take my own steps in the matter."