She had thought that she knew much of evil, and she had even told him so that evening, but this was far beyond anything she had dreamt of in her innocent thoughts, and she instinctively felt that there were lower depths of degradation to which a woman could fall, and of which she would not try to guess the vileness and horror.
"Shall I burn the flowers, too ?" asked Don John, taking them in his hand.
"The flowers?
No.

They are innocent and fresh.

What have they to do with her?
Give them to me." He raised them to his lips, looking at her, and then held them out.

She took them, and kissed them, as he had done, and they both smiled happily.

Then she fastened them in her hair.
"No one will see me to-night but you," she said.