It towered in the majesty of its insistent whiteness.

It trailed its mystic modesties before them.

Its brittle blossoms quivered like innocence appalled.

The wide cleft at its base betrayed the black and formidable heart beneath the fair and sugared surface.

These crowding symbols, perceptible to Edith's subtler intelligence, massed themselves in her companions' minds as one vast sensation of discomfort.
As usual when he was embarrassed, Majendie laughed.
"It's the very spirit of dyspepsia," he said.