"May I not show you over my house?"
"What is there to be seen?"
"Come and judge."
I held the door open; she paused, entered, and returned.
"I'll not look over your house to-day. You have had enough of my company. You may walk with me to the gate."
She moved away, I followed her.
"How long do you think my bouquet will last, Mr. Thorburn?"
"Some days."
"I wonder that people who like one another should make presents of flowers. When a young man presents a bouquet to the girl he is in love with, do either of them think that the gift exactly typifies their passion—all human passion—which is bright to-day and withered to-morrow?"