“But your sister?” he asked. These petals! I’ve been wanting to cry all the evening, cry here on your shoulder for my petals. Sydney sprang up. I feel almost inclined to regret the fact. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips. She turned quickly. He had got here at speed by that means. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. “To be frank with you, Lady Lescelles, when your brother asked me the other day to be his wife I was under a false impression as regards his relations—with some other person.
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