t a feminine
impulse prompted her to prevaricate.

"Oh, to the sea, I suppose. I possess two small brothers who insist
upon the sea for their holidays. I suppose you will be going to
Hampshire with the Mortons. The Moat will seem a haven of rest and
green after the East. The gardens are more entrancing than ever. Such
flowers!" She lifted the rose to her face as if reminded of its
presence, stroked her cheek with its velvety petals, and let it drop
into her lap. A heightened voice sounded from the end of the room, and
the quick movement of interest with which she turned to see what was
happening sent the rose spray rolling softly to the ground. She bent
forward to regain it, but Gloucester was quicker than she; he held it
firmly in his big brown hand, not offering a return, but looking down at
it with an expression which Jean found strangely eloquent.

"It is a long time since you have seen English flowers. To an
Englishman nothing can ever be quite so beautiful. You must be glad you
came home in the time of roses!"

The intentionally soft tone of the girl's voice threw into greater
contrast the man's hoarse accents.

"Will you give it to me? May I keep it?"

Jean stared, her delicate brows arched in dignified surprise. Certainly
she would not give a flower which she had been wearing to a perfect
stranger, and that in the presence of three pairs of watching eyes.
This Robert Gloucester was disconcertingly direct, and must be kept in
his place--gently, however, for he had other points in his favour, such
as being young and handsome, and transparently impressed by herself.

"Not this one, I think. It is too faded and tired. I am cruel to
flowers when I wear them. I can't leave them alone. Please take your
choice from any in that bowl. They are all quite fresh!"

She held out her hand, gently imperious, and Gloucester mutely returned
the rose. He could do no less; but his air was so discouraged, so out
of all proportion abashed, that the girl felt a swift remorse. It was
like disappointing an eager child, and watching the shadowing of the
happy face. Now it was not her own wish, but simply the presence of
onlookers which prevented the refusal from being changed into consent.
She laid the recovered flower on the table beside the fragrant bowl of
roses, almost disliking it for having been the cause of this check in
the conversation. Her eyes softened, she smiled into Gloucester's
troubled face wi