He did not stay long, and when
he returned his heart gave a joyful lift at sight of Agatha looking out
from her balcony, as if she were looking for him. He made her a gay
flourishing bow, lifting his hat high, and she came down to meet him at
the hotel door. She had her hat on and jacket over one arm and she joined
him at once for the farewell walk he proposed in what they had agreed to
call their garden.
She moved a little ahead of him, and when they reached the place where
they always sat, she shifted her jacket to the other arm and uncovered
the hand in which she had been carrying the withered bouquet. "Here is
something I found in your closet, when I was getting papa's things out."
"Why, what is it?" he asked innocently, as he took it from her.
"A bouquet, apparently," she answered, as he drew the long ribbons
through his fingers, and looked at the flowers curiously, with his head
aslant.
"Where did you get it?"
"On the shelf."
It seemed a long time before Burnamy said with a long sigh, as of final
recollection, "Oh, yes," and then he said nothing; and they did not sit
down, but stood looking at each other.
"Was it something you got for me, and forgot to give me?" she asked in a
voice which would not have misled a woman, but which did its work with
the young man.
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