“Why am I doing what?”
“Don't you know what you are doing?”
“Why, picking flowers!” and once more she was back, bending and sniffing at the blossoms.
“That's enough.”
“Oh no,” she called; “it's not not nearly.
“Keep on putting them together, if you love me.”
“You know I love you,” answered Shelton, in a smothered voice.
Antonia gazed at him across her shoulder; puzzled and inquiring was her face.
“I'm not a bit like you,” she said. “What will you have for your room?”
“Choose!”