"I like you better," he said. "You're still my white rose. See, I've
adopted it as your symbol. I shall never wear any other flower on my
coat. This is yours. No, it's _you_! And I've kept the one I took last
night. I mean to keep it always. No danger of _my_ changing my mind! But
you? I've lain awake worrying for fear you might."
He held her hand, questioning her eyes with his.
She shook her head, smiling. But he would not let the hand go. At that
hour there was no one to stare. "The Countess didn't warn you off me?"
Annesley opened her eyes. "Of course not! Why, you told me you were old
friends!"
"So we are--as friends go in this world: 'pals,' anyhow. She's done me
several good turns, and I've paid her. She'd always do what she could to
help, for her own sake as well as mine. But her idea of a man may be
different from yours."
"She wasn't with me long," explained Annesley. "She said I needed sleep.
After she'd looked at my room to see if it were comfortable, she bade me
'good-night,' and we haven't met this morning. The few remarks she did
make about you were complimentary."
"What did she say? I'm curious.
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