to say, for at that minute the shop-bell rang and
a priest came in, a little old man, tired-looking, in a black cassock. He
was apparently known, though he seemed to take no notice of anyone. The
man was all civility, but put on an expression meant to indicate
amusement, to Peter, behind the clerical back. The girl put one of
Peter's fingers on her own lips by way of directing caution, and
continued more or less in silence. The room became all but silent save
for the sound of scissors and the noise of the traffic outside, and Peter
reflected again on many things. When he had had his hair cut previously,
for instance, had people made faces behind his back? Had young ladies
ceased from tempting offers that seemed to include more than manicuring?

He got up to pay. "Well," she demanded, _sotto voce_, "what of the
arrangement? She could do him easily at any..."

He cut her short. No; it was really impossible. His wife was coming up
that afternoon. It was plain that she now regarded it as impossible also.
He paid an enormous sum wonderingly, and departed.

Outside it struck him that he had forgotten one thing. He walked briskly
to the hotel, and went up to his rooms. In the sitting-room was the big
bunch of flowers and a maid unwrapping it. She turned and smiled at him.
"These have just come for you, sir," she said. "Shall I arrange them for
you?"

"No, thank you," said Peter. "I'd rather do them myself. I love arranging
flowers, and I know just what my wife likes. I expect you'd do them
better, but I'll have a shot, if you don't mind. Would you fill the
glasses and get me a few more? We haven't enough here."

"Certainly, sir. There was a gentleman here once who did flowers
beautifully, he did. But most likes us to do it for them."

She departed for the glasses. Peter saw that the florist had secured his
violets, and took them first and filled a bowl. Then he walked into the
bedroom and contemplated for a minute. Then he put the violets critically
on the little table by the bed nearest the window, and stood back to see
the result. Finding it good, he departed. When next he came in, it was to
place a great bunch of roses on the mantelshelf, and a few sprays of the
soft yellow and green mimosa on the dressing-table. For the sitting-room
he had carnations and delphiniums, and he placed a high towering cluster
of the latter on the writing-table, and a vase of the former on the
mantelpiece. A few roses, left over, went on th