"Four!" said Helmsley, carelessly.
"Five!"
A little crowd gathered. Sybil, glowing, laughing, her childish vanity touched by this piece of vulgar advertisement. In her gay yellow and red-striped gown she stood holding up the flower; the nasturtium's head-dress was a hood of vivid green, opening over mock flower petals.
"Six!"
"Seven!"
"Ten!" said Jimmie, carelessly. "Come, that's a fair price for a flower—but I'll go on."
Young Knox stopped bidding suddenly, his face growing white. He watched Sybil, laughing brightly, kiss the flower, saw Jimmie Helmsley touch it covertly with his lips where her soft red ones had lain, and hold out the yellow bud to be fastened on.
"I win the flower," he said mockingly.
"One moment." Young Knox bent close to Sybil. "I'll say good-bye. It's not quite my game—this. But if you ever want me, remember I'm there, as I told you before. Good-bye."
The glow died out of Sybil Chauntsey's face; her fingers trembled as she fastened in the flower and took her five pound notes.