"You keep on saying 'what I thought you were.' I can't think how I could, or why I did."
"I know why," she replied serenely. "You fancied I had more decorations in my back hair than a respectable woman can well carry."
She meditated.
"I thought I could afford a rose or two. But it seems I couldn't."
"You? You can afford anything—anything. All the same——"
"Well, if I can afford to sit with you, out here, at a quarter past ten, on this old heathenish piazza, I suppose I can."
"All the same——" he insisted.
She meditated again.
"All the same, if it wasn't those roses, I can't think what it was."
"Dear lady, it wasn't the roses. You are so deadly innocent I think I ought to tell you what it was."