They were white, some incurved and holy, others expanded in an ecstasy.

The tree was dark as a shadow.

She lifted her hand impulsively to the flowers; she went forward and touched them in worship.
"Let us go," he said.
There was a cool scent of ivory roses--a white, virgin scent.

Something made him feel anxious and imprisoned.

The two walked in silence.
"Till Sunday," he said quietly, and left her; and she walked home slowly, feeling her soul satisfied with the holiness of the night.