"No more than you desire the withered bud you left beside me while I slept." "What bud, sir ?" "Did you not leave me a rose-bud ?" "I ?" "And a bit of silver birch-bark scratched with a knife point ?" "Now that I think of it, perhaps I may have done so--or some such thing--scarce knowing what I was about--and being sleepy.

What was it that I wrote?
I can not now remember--being so sleepy when I did it." "And that is all you thought about it, Lois ?" "How can one think when half asleep'' "Here is your rose," I said angrily.

"I will take my ring again." She opened her grey eyes at that.
"Lord!" she murmured in an innocent and leisurely surprise.

"You have it still, my rose?
Are roses scarce where you inhabit, sir?
For if you find the flower so rare and curious I would not rob you of it--no!" And, bending, soaked and soaped another shirt.
"Why do you mock me, Lois ?" "I! Mock you! La! Sir, you surely jest." "You do so! You have done so ever since we met.

I ask you why ?" I repeated, curbing my temper.
"Lord!" she murmured, shaking her head.