"I will—see Mr. Boswell."
"He has—honourable friend."
"My friend, Toky. The honourable friend is mine, also! And, oh! the flowers, Toky! There are no roses like the June roses. How wonderfully you have arranged them! A rose should never be crowded."
Toky grinned helplessly.
"Tree hours I take to make—look beautifully. One hour for each—rosy. That why it look beautifully."
"Yes, that is why it looks—beautifully. Three hours and—you, Toky!"
Boswell and Farwell were sitting in front of the grate, upon which the wood lay ready to light. Their faces were pale and haggard, but their eyes turned to Priscilla without shame or doubt.
"There is much—to talk about," said Boswell with his ready friendliness; "Max—your Farwell and mine—has told me——"
"After dinner, dear friends. I am hungry, bitterly hungry and—cold!"
"Cold?"