“Ay, you’ve said as much. But what do you want them for, for decoration, or to send away, or what?”
“I want them for a presentation bouquet.”
“A presentation bouquet! Who’s coming then?—the Duchess of Portland?”
“Oh, not her? Well you’ll have a rare poppy-show if you put all the things you’ve mentioned into your bouquet.”
“Yes, I want a rare poppy-show.”
“You do! Then there’s no more to be said.”
The next day Winifred, in a dress of silvery velvet, and holding a gaudy bunch of flowers in her hand, waited with keen impatience in the schoolroom, looking down the drive for Gudrun’s arrival. It was a wet morning. Under her nose was the strange fragrance of hot-house flowers, the bunch was like a little fire to her, she seemed to have a strange new fire in her heart.