The scent of white roses was in the air, languorous, exquisite.
The blue jay laughed again in the acacia by the gate, laughed and flew away.

"Good riddance!" said Monck.
"Don't you like him ?" said Stella.
"I'm not particularly keen on being jeered at," he answered.
She laughed at him in her turn.

"I never thought you cared a single _anna_ what any one thought of you." He smiled.

"Perhaps I have got more sensitive since I knew you." She lifted her lips to his with a sudden movement.

"I am like that too, Everard.