He raised his eyes, and looked at her apparel and at her flowers, but not at her face:
“Ay, she is fine,” he said, and returned to the chess
“We have been gathering snowdrops,” said Lettie, fingering the flowers in her bosom.
“They are pretty—give me some, will you?” said Alice, holding out her hand. Lettie gave her the flowers.
“Check!” said George deliberately.
“Get out!” replied his opponent, “I’ve got some snowdrops—don’t they suit me, an innocent little soul like me? Lettie won’t wear them—she’s not meek and mild and innocent like me. Do you want some?”
“If you like—what for?”
“To make you pretty, of course, and to show you an innocent little meekling.”
“You’re in check,” he said.
“Where can you wear them?—there’s only your shirt. Aw!—there!”—she stuck a few flowers in his ruffled black hair—“Look, Lettie, isn’t he sweet?”
Lettie laughed with a strained little laugh:
“He’s like Bottom and the ass’s head,” she said.
“Then I’m Titania—don’t I make a lovely fairy queen. Bully Bottom?—and who’s jealous Oberon?”
“He reminds me of that man in Hedda Gabler—crowned with vine leaves—oh, yes, vine leaves,” said Emily.
“How’s your mare’s sprain, Mr. Tempest?” George asked, taking no notice of the flowers in his hair.
