“What are you doing with those flowers, Norah? You look silly with a bunch in each hand. Somehow flowers and you never do go well together, they look incongruous.”
The assault was so gratuitous that it ruffled my plumes. I was just on the point of handing them the flowers, with a word of explanation to smooth things out; because those two boys had been abominably rude, and they were not accustomed to rudeness from men. All experiences of that kind had come my way. The fact of the sensation being an entirely novel one scarcely made it more agreeable, especially since they had every reason to suppose that the pair were head over ears in love with them. My inclination was towards sympathy—true sisterly sympathy—because I had been treated badly myself, and I knew what it felt like. But when Doris spoke to me like that, sympathetic feelings retreated into the background. I sank down on the ottoman; put first one nosegay to my nose, and then the other; and smiled a little.
“Mr Carter and Mr Purchase have brought me these lovely roses. So sweet of them, really!”
I was conscious that the girls cast a curious, and even startled glance in my direction. Doris’ voice was a little sharp.
“Do you mean to say that those roses were given you by Mr Purchase?”
“And Mr Carter. They would insist upon my not refusing. Wasn’t it nice of them?”
As I glanced towards Doris, with my very sweetest smile, she looked what I call scratchy. Audrey addressed Basil Carter.
“So, Mr Carter, you have been giving Norah roses?”
“Yes, yes; poor ones, unworthy the recipient. Had I known the honour which was in store for them I would have procured better.”
“That is very kind of you. They look very like the roses you have sometimes given me.”