She held in her left hand a bunch of buds and blown cups of the pale purple meadow-crocus.

He admired them.

She told him to look round.

He confessed to not having noticed them in the grass: what was the name?
Colchicum, in Botany, she said.
'These are plucked to be sent to a friend; otherwise I'm reluctant to take the life of flowers for a whim.

Wild flowers, I mean.