Not a second of time had passed when he opened them again.

Mary was still praising her roses.
She was holding them to her face, leaning towards Nelly as she did so.
Her expression was more than kind: it was tender.

She put down her basket of roses and took Nelly's hands between hers.

For a moment she held them against her breast before she relinquished them.

She spoke with a little tremor in her voice.