"Forty-eight hours, to be exact," commented Patricia, forgetful of all the reproachful things she had intended to say.
"You got the flowers?" as his eye fell on the carnations which Gustave had placed in a large bowl.
"Yes, thank you very much indeed, they're exquisite. They made Miss Sikkum quite envious."
"Who's Miss Sikkum?"
"Time, in all probability, will show," replied Patricia, seating herself on a settee. Bowen drew up a chair and sat opposite to her. She liked him for that. Had he sat beside her, she told herself, she would have hated him.
"You're not angry with me, Patricia, are you?" There was an anxious note in his voice.
"Do you appreciate that you've made me extremely ridiculous with your telegrams, messenger-boys, conservatories, and confectioner's-shops? Why did you do it?"
"I don't know," he confessed with unconscious gaucherie, "I simply couldn't get you out of my thoughts."
"Which shows that you tried," commented Patricia, the lightness of her words contradicted by the blush that accompanied them.
"The King's Regulations do not provide for Patricias," he replied, "and I had to try. That is how I knew."
"Do you think I'm a cormorant, as well as an abandoned person?" she demanded.
