Coming out to the sunshine, he shook himself with disgust.

"Faugh!" he thought, "what sick fancies and sentimental nonsense possess me?
I am growing unwholesome.

My dreams of the other night have come back to torment me in the day.

These must put them to flight." The fancy which had sent him in pursuit of these flowers he confessed to be a childish one, but none the less soothing for that.

He had remembered that the first day he beheld her a nosegay had decorated his button-hole; a fair, sweet-scented thing which seemed, in some subtle way, like her.