the wish I imputed to her to keep him buried in her soul.
What it accorded with was my constant conviction that no human
being had ever had a more delightful social gift than his,
and what it seemed to convey was that nothing in the world
was worth speaking of if one pretended to speak of that.
But one did not! Miss Tita sat down beside her aunt,
looking as if she had reason to believe some very remarkable
conversation would come off between us.

"It's about the beautiful flowers," said the old lady;
"you sent us so many--I ought to have thanked you for them before.
But I don't write letters and I receive only at long intervals."

She had not thanked me while the flowers continued to come, but she
departed from her custom so far as to send for me as soon as she
began to fear that they would not come any more. I noted this;
I remembered what an acquisitive propensity she had shown when it
was a question of extracting gold from me, and I privately rejoiced
at the happy thought I had had in suspending my tribute. She had
missed it and she was willing to make a concession to bring it back.
At the first sign of this concession I could only go to meet her.
"I am afraid you have not had many, of late, but they shall begin
again immediately--tomorrow, tonight."

"Oh, do send us some tonight!" Miss Tita cried, as if it
were an immense circumstance.

"What else should you do with them? It isn't a manly taste to make a bower
of your room," the old woman remarked.