"Yes, if it suits you best," he answered, with a troubled brow. He
followed her to the door. As she went out, she said, "May I pick a
flower as I go?"

He seized his hat, and said, "Come with me to the rose-house in the
garden, and you shall have something better."

They walked together down the gravel paths, through the neat and
well-kept garden, where the warm spring sunshine was calling life out
of the tender turf, and the air was full of delicate odors. She seemed
as gay and happy as a child on a holiday. Her disappointment of an hour
ago was all gone in the feeling that Arthur was interested in her, was
caring for her future. Without any definite hopes or dreams, she felt
as if the world was suddenly grown richer and wider. Something good was
coming to her certainly, something good had come; for was she not
walking in this lovely garden with its handsome proprietor, who was,
she even began to think, her friend? The turf was as soft, the air as
mild, the sun as bright as in any of her romances, and the figure of
Farnham's wealth which she had heard from her father rang musically in
her mind.

They went into the rose-house, and he gave her two or three splendid
satiny Marechal Niels, and then a Jacqueminot, so big, so rich and
lustrous in its dark beauty, that she could not help crying out with
delight. He was pleased with her joy, and gave her another, "for your
hair," he said. She colored with pleasure till her cheek was like the
royal flower. "Hallo!" thought Farnham to himself, "she does not take
these things as a matter of course." When they came into the garden
again, he made the suggestion which had been in his mind for the last