He bent down, pinched a sprig of lavender, put his thumb and forefinger to his nose and snuffed up the smell.

When Laura saw that gesture she forgot all about the karakas in her wonder at him caring for things like that--caring for the smell of lavender.

How many men that she knew would have done such a thing?
Oh, how extraordinarily nice workmen were, she thought.

Why couldn't she have workmen for her friends rather than the silly boys she danced with and who came to Sunday night supper?
She would get on much better with men like these.
It's all the fault, she decided, as the tall fellow drew something on the back of an envelope, something that was to be looped up or left to hang, of these absurd class distinctions.

Well, for her part, she didn't feel them.