"I'd love it."
He dropped her hand and got away. She was little and young, so divinely innocent. He felt that he must not take unfair advantage of that mood of exaltation.
He drove straight downtown and ordered flowers for her. Remembering the nun's dress, he sent violets in a gray basket, with a knot on the handle of heavenly blue.
The flowers came while Jean was at dinner. Emily was in Hilda's place, a quiet contrast in her slenderness and modest black to Hilda's opulence. Dr. McKenzie had not had time to dress.
"I am so busy, Emily."
"But you love the busy-ness, don't you? I can't imagine you without the hours crammed full."
"Just now I wish that I could push it away as Richards pushed it—"
Jean looked up. "But Dr. Richards went to France, Daddy."
"I envy him."
"Oh, do you—?" Then her flowers came, and she forgot everything else.