"I understand," she said. Rich folks, once. Someone was coming out of the house. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. “Who decorated the school like this?” She asked, peering up at the multicolored banners that hung everywhere. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. “His dress for no man lays a snare; A man scores always, everywhere. And she had been doubting since that walk in the Zoological Gardens whether, indeed, he did simply care for her. He came over to me. ‘Flirting, Gerald? A new come-out for you. "I told you I would call to bid you farewell, Mr. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance.
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