"Ay. My look's hungry for the sight o' your dear face. I'm blind with admiration. I wants t' gaze forever."
"Where's my roses now?"
"They've fled. What matter?"
"Ay—fled! An' where?"
"They've retreated whence they came so prettily. 'Tis a lure o' that sweet color t' come an' go."
Peggy gasped.
"Whence they came!" she faltered. "Ah, where did they come from, Dickie? Don't ye know?"
"A while gone you was flushed with a pretty modesty," Dickie replied, smiling indulgent explanation, "an' now you is pale with a sad fright at my rough love-makin'."
"I'm not frightened at all. Look at my nose!"
"'Tis the sauciest little knob in the world!"