He sat very still, looking at her as her firm white hands caressed her coiled hair into shape.

Once she moved his flowers to find her comb, and laid them down again.
"Aren't you going to wear them ?" he inquired anxiously.
Her upper lip lifted an instant, caught up, in its fashion, by the pretty play of the little sensitive amber mole.

Two small white teeth showed and were hidden again.

It was as if she had been about to smile, or to speak, and had thought better of it.
She took up the flowers and tried them, now at her breast, and now at her waist.
"Where shall I put them ?" said she.

"Here?
Or here ?" "Just there." She let them stay there in the hollow of her breast.
He laid the box on the dressing-table close to her hand where it searched for pins.
"I've brought you this," he said gently.
She smiled that divine and virgin smile of hers.