'What are they ?' 'Those are the little seed-producing flowers, and the long catkins, they only produce pollen, to fertilise them.' 'Do they, do they!' repeated Hermione, looking closely.
'From those little red bits, the nuts come; if they receive pollen from the long danglers.' 'Little red flames, little red flames,' murmured Hermione to herself.
And she remained for some moments looking only at the small buds out of which the red flickers of the stigma issued.
'Aren't they beautiful?
I think they're so beautiful,' she said, moving close to Birkin, and pointing to the red filaments with her long, white finger.
'Had you never noticed them before ?' he asked.
'No, never before,' she replied.
'And now you will always see them,' he said.
'Now I shall always see them,' she repeated.

'Thank you so much for showing me.

I think they're so beautiful--little red flames--' Her absorption was strange, almost rhapsodic.

Both Birkin and Ursula were suspended.

The little red pistillate flowers had some strange, almost mystic-passionate attraction for her.
The lesson was finished, the books were put away, at last the class was dismissed.