“Do they really kill cows?”
June snapped her fingers: “Like that. But you just come on here,” she added with pretty imperiousness. “I want to axe—ask you some things—what's that?”
“Scarlet sage.”
“Scarlet sage,” repeated June. “An' that?”
“Nasturtium, and that's Oriental grass.”
“Nas-tur-tium, Oriental. An' what's that vine?”
“That comes from North Africa—they call it 'matrimonial vine.'”
“Whut fer?” asked June quickly.
“Because it clings so.” Hale smiled, but June saw none of his humour—the married people she knew clung till the finger of death unclasped them. She pointed to a bunch of tall tropical-looking plants with great spreading leaves and big green-white stalks.
“They're called Palmae Christi.”