They exchanged no remark.

On breaking the envelope--she did so at once--Rhoda found a little bunch of violets crushed but fragrant.
'These in return for your Cheddar pinks,' began the informal note accompanying the flowers.

'I had them an hour ago from a pretty girl in the streets of Parma.

I didn't care to buy, and walked on, but the pretty girl ran by me, and with gentle force fixed the flowers in my button-hole, so that I had no choice but to stroke her velvety cheek and give her a lira.

How hungry I am for the sight of your face! Think of me sometimes, dear friend.' She laughed, and laid the letter and its violets away with the other.
'I must depend on you, it seems, for news of Everard,' said Miss Barfoot after dinner.
'I can only tell you,' Rhoda answered lightly, 'that he has travelled from the south of France to the north of Italy, with much observation of female countenances.' 'He informs you of that ?' 'Very naturally.