"What happened, Opal?"
"The inevitable!"
And again his heart bounded for joy! The inevitable! Surely that meant that the girl's better nature had triumphed, had shown her the ignominy of such a union in time to save her. He looked at her for further information, but seeing her evident embarrassment, forbore to pursue the question further.
They wandered out through the luxurious garden, and the spell of its enchantment settled upon them both.
He pulled a crimson rose from a bush and began listlessly to strip the thorns from the stalk. "Roses in September," he said, "are like love in the autumn of life."
And they both thought again of the Count and a chill passed over their spirits. The girl watched him curiously.
"Do you always cut the thorns from your roses?" she asked.
"Certainly-sooner or later. Don't you?"
"O no! I am a woman, you see, and I only hold my rose tightly in my fingers and smile in spite of the pricks as if to convince the world that my rose has no thorns."
"Is that honest?"