It was an imaginative whim on his part, but as she bent over the rose he fancied that the flower glowed with a more miraculous fire, and that its radiance spread to the girl’s face.
“This is wonderful. The shading is so perfect. You know, it is a most extraordinary mixing and blending of colours.”
“That was just the problem. Whether the flower would turn out a mere garish, gaudy thing.”
“But it is exquisite.”
“I have been sitting here for two whole days watching the bud open.”
She turned to him with an impulsive flash of the eye.
“Have you? I like the idea of that. Just watching the dawn.”
Her shyness had gone, and Canterton felt that an extraordinary thing had happened. She no longer seemed a stranger among his roses, although she had not been more than ten minutes in the rosery.
“Nature opens her secret doors only to those who are patient.”
“And what a fascinating life! Like becoming very tiny, just a fairy, and letting oneself down into the heart of a rose.”