Is that a sign of being in love I wonder ?" "Certainly not!" returned George promptly; "for _I_ feel a fool in her presence, and I'm not in love." "How do you know that ?" And Errington glanced at him keenly and inquiringly.
"How do I know?
Come, I like that! Have I studied myself all these years for nothing?
Look here,"-- and he carefully drew out the little withering bunch of daisies he had purloined--"these are for you.

I knew you wanted them, though you hadn't the impudence to pick them up, and I had.

I thought you might like to put them under your pillow, and all that sort of thing, because if one is resolved to become love-lunatic, one may as well do the thing properly out and out,--I hate all half-measures.

Now, if the remotest thrill of sentiment were in me, you can understand, I hope, that wild horses would not have torn this adorable posy from my possession! I should have kept it, and you would never have known of it," and he laughed softly.

"Take it, old fellow! You're rich now, with the rose she gave you besides.