They waved gently in the breeze, sweetly white and blue, strangely significant to the girl.
Moore laughed defiantly.
"Wade thought to fetch these flowers in," he explained.

"They're his favorites as well as mine.

It won't be long now till the frost kills them ...

and I want to be happy while I may!" Again Columbine felt that deep surge within her, beyond her control, beyond her understanding, but now gathering and swelling, soon to be reckoned with.

She did not look at Wilson's face then.