thought
of a cottage garden with the dear flowers which bloom in all men's hearts,
of the hollyhock and the red and white rose which is called York and
Lancaster, and of love--in-a-mist and Sweet William, and honeysuckle,
larkspur, and London Pride.

"How can you care for me?" he said. "I'm insignificant and crippled and
ordinary and ugly."

She took his face in both her hands and kissed his lips.

"You're an old silly, that's what you are," she said.

CXXI

When the hops were picked, Philip with the news in his pocket that he had
got the appointment as assistant house-physician at St. Luke's,
accompanied the Athelnys back to London. He took modest rooms in
Westminster and at the beginning of October entered upon his duties. The
work was interesting and varied; every day he learned something new; he
felt himself of some consequence; and he saw a good deal of Sally. He
found life uncommonly pleasant. He was free about six, except on the days
on which he had out-patients, and then he went to the shop at which Sally
worked to meet her when she came out. There were several young men, who
hung about opposite the 'trade entrance' or a little further along, at the
first corner; and the girls, coming out two and two or in little groups,
nudged one another and giggled as they recognised them. Sally in her plain
black dress looked very different from the country lass who had picked
hops side by side with him. She walked away from the shop quickly, but she
slackened her pace when they met, and greeted him with her quiet smile.
They walked together through the busy street. He talked to her of his work
at the hospital, and she told him what she had been doing in the shop that
day. He came to know the names of the girls she worked with. He found that
Sally had a restrained, but keen, sense of the ridiculous, and she made
remarks about the girls or the men who were set over them which amused him
by their unexpected drollery. She had a way of saying a thing which was
very characteristic, quite gravely, as though there were nothing funny in
it at all, and yet it was so sharp-sighted that Philip broke into
delighted laughter. Then she would give him a little glance in which the
smiling eyes showed she was not unaware of her own humour. They met with
a handshake and parted as formally. Once Philip asked her to come and have
tea with him in his rooms, but she refused.

"No, I won't do that. It would look funny."

Never a wor