He looked at the roses Lilian kept at her waist and the rose that was languishing amidst her hair. They were those he had sent her in the afternoon.
"Thank you, Miss Temple, for honouring my flowers," said Lucio, in his subdued and penetrating voice; "I wear your colours, as you see."
She looked at the white rose he had in his buttonhole, and smiled slightly.
"After the ball, Miss Temple, we will make an exchange. You shall give me the rose that has been in your hair or one from your waist, and I will give you mine, if you like."
Lilian Temple listened with her little blond head inclined, just like a bird's.
"Will you give me one of your roses?" he asked, in a still lower and more penetrating voice, "one of your roses to keep me company after I leave you to-night, when I am alone in my room? Will you give me one?"
As if to speak better, he took the little, long white hand without a glove and pressed it slightly between his own.
She raised her pure eyes, blue as periwinkles, to him and replied in a faint voice:
"Yes."
"And you will keep the rose I have worn beside you to-night, Miss Temple? You will keep it? To remind you of me to-night and to-morrow?"