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Some of the stall-keepers had little glass cases, and in these there was room only for the Gloire de Dijons and the La Frances and the velvety Jacks, the rest over-ran the tables and the floor in anything that would hold them. The place rioted with the joy and the passion of roses, for buying and selling.
For a moment the two stared into each other's eyes, Harry fascinated, the man filled with wrath and a cruel, sneering humour. "Who are you?" he demanded at last. "Who are you to come flying over my wall and break my Gloire de Dijons? What is your name?" he added, shaking him; "and what may be your business here?" Harry could not as much as proffer a word in explanation.
And a picture flashed into her mind of Miss Ashwell in garden hat and gloves snipping Miss Meredith's rosebushes and talking to Judith about Gloire de Dijons, and Frau Druschkis and Prince Ruperts and Lady Ursulas, as if they were intimate friends. Judith jumped up excitedly. "Madam President," she said eagerly, "why shouldn't we have a flower shower?
For a moment the two stared into each other's eyes, Harry fascinated, the man filled with wrath and a cruel, sneering humour. "Who are you?" he demanded at last. "Who are you to come flying over my wall and break my GLOIRE DE DIJONS! What is your name?" he added, shaking him; "and what may be your business here?" Harry could not as much as proffer a word in explanation.
Some of the stall-keepers had little glass cases, and in these there was room only for the Gloire de Dijons and the La Frances and the velvety Jacks, the rest over-ran the tables and the floor in anything that would hold them. The place rioted with the joy and the passion of roses, for buying and selling.
Unpainted shutters, cracking in the heat, blocked one half of its windows. Weather-stains ran down the slates from the lantern on the main roof. The lantern over the stable had lost its vane, and the stable-clock its minute-hand. The very nails had dropped out of the gable wall, and the wistaria and Gloire de Dijons they should have supported trailed down in tangles, like curtains.
"Do you hear?" said the little blonde, now coming near; "cut me a bud of these 'Gloire de Dijons. No! one of these 'Marshal Niels'; not this, the other, that is just opening!" I was correctly dressed for the occasion, and quite in proper style for a country visit: tanned shoes, knickerbocker jacket, Pepita waistcoat, Madapolam shirt-collar, Bismarck en colère scarf, Panama hat.
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