The Cords of Vanity

"You are quite by way of being a gentleman," had been Stella's greeting, that afternoon. Then, on a sudden, she rested both hands upon my breast. When she did that you tingled all over, in an agreeable fashion. "It was uncommonly decent of you to remember," said this impulsive young woman. "It was dear of you! And the flowers were lovely."

"They ought to have been immortelles, of course," I apologised, "but the florist was out of them. Yes, and of daffodils, too. " I sat down, and sighed, pensively. "Dear, dear! " said I, "to think it was only two years ago I buried my dearest hopes and aspirations and -- er -- all that sort of thing."