While she clipped the stems and put them together, he talked on.
"I said these were the flower of flowers to me; I should have excepted one other."
Has she not been so occupied in controlling the disturbance that "my friend" aroused, she would have noticed a quality in the tones that had not been there before, as well as the look that searched her face when she raised her eyes, after a little pause, with "Well?"
"This flower that I have in mind is a very hardy one, also. It will flourish in almost any climate; indeed, the more rocky the soil, and the rougher the winds that blow upon it, the more beautifully it develops."
"That is strange," she said, intent on fashioning her bouquet.
"What is stranger still, it blooms all the year round."
"Is it fragrant?"
"Wonderfully so. Not a flower that ever I saw can compare with its delicate fragrance."
"What color is it?"
"White, with a delicate flush of rose."