All four alighted, and walked through the winding paths, talked with old
Symonds, and studied the charming spot with growing delight. Richard,
managing to get Roberta to himself for a brief space, eagerly questioned
her.
"You find this prettier than any picture in any gallery, don't you?"
"Oh, it has great charm for me. I can hardly express the curious content
it gives me, to wander about such an old garden. The fragrance of the
box is particularly pleasant to me, and I love the old-fashioned flowers
better than any of the wonders the modern gardeners show. Just look at
that mass of larkspur--did you ever see such a satisfying blue?"
"I have. The first time I came to your house to dinner you wore blue,
the softest, richest blue imaginable, and you sat where the shaded light
made a picture of you I shall never forget. I've never seen that
peculiar blue since without thinking of you. It's one of the shades of
that larkspur, isn't it?"
"I made fun of you, afterward, for telling Rosy you noticed the colours
we wore," confessed Roberta, with a mischievous glance.
"You did--you rascal! Look up at me a minute--please.
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