When Florinda had gone, Grief said, "Well, what was it?" Wrinkles looked curiously from his drawing-board.
Pennoyer lit his pipe and held it at the side of his mouth in the manner of a deliberate man. At last he said, "It was two violets."
"You don't say!" ejaculated Wrinkles.
"Well, I'm hanged!" cried Grief. "Holding them in his hand and