“That dahlia,” she said, pointing to it, “is exactly like Norman Douglas. It might easily be his twin brother.”
Ellen’s dark-browed face flushed. She admired the dahlia in question, but she knew Rosemary did not, and that no compliment was intended. But she dared not resent Rosemary’s speech—poor Ellen dared not resent anything just then. And it was the first time Rosemary had ever mentioned Norman’s name to her. She felt that this portended something.
“I met Norman Douglas in the valley,” said Rosemary, looking straight at her sister, “and he told me you and he wanted to be married—if I would give you permission.”