“Yes; all right. See, I have chosen the nicest things I could find, as far as I know; but the fellow asks such confounded prices.”
“Well, you had only that to expect,” was the smiling answer, and then the young man turned to the lace-merchant.
“Have you been ill long?”
“Only a month, and I should be dead if it were not for Maheleth. I cannot do without her.”
“But she is poor herself; she cannot bring you what you want, can she?”
“No, she cannot; she is poor, and her father is poor, and so am I. I sell nothing now; I have no customers.”
Holcombe smiled slightly, but he went on:
“Are you fond of flowers?”
“Yes, but I cannot afford them.”
“Then it would be cruel of me to ask a violet hearts-ease of you; but, if you would give me that, I will send you more flowers, and bring you something you will like to-morrow.”