He hesitated.
"Pansy," he finished, after a moment's thought.
"But why 'Pansy' specially?" she asked, smiling at him. "Why not Lily or Rose or May, since I'm to be given a stupid flower name?"
"There are pansies in your eyes, on your nightgown, on the appointments of your dressing-table, on your handkerchief here."
With a deeply bronzed hand he touched a scrap of embroidered muslin that peeped out from beneath her pillow and which had a pansy worked on it in one corner.
Pansy laughed, amused at his perception.
"Now, I'm too tired to entertain you any longer," she said. "Good night, and thank you for bringing the brandy."
Le Breton was not accustomed to being dismissed when he was prepared to stay.'
"Are you really anxious to get rid of me?" he asked.
"Most anxious. I'm dying to go to sleep."