Part 19 (1/2)
”Billy!”
”Lilies of the valley and violets, Gina--”
”And roses;” she finished mechanically.
”What kind of roses, Gina?”
The puzzled frown left her face.
”Glorious roses, Billy.” She was enthusiastic again. ”There've never been roses like these. Why, there's one kind of a rose. It's known all over now. It took her years and years to grow it.”
”What sort of a rose, Gina? What sort did you say?”
”I didn't say, Billy. I don't even know the name of it. But it's a yellow rose; almost gold. And its center is pink and--and scarlet.”
For a moment they were silent.
”Did you see this--this woman, Gina--often?”
”Oh, once or twice, Billy.”
”When, Gina?”
”In the evenings; each time.”
”Where was she, Gina?”
”Why, how strange you are, Billy.”
”Where, Gina? Tell me, d'you hear--tell me--where?”
”In her garden, Billy. What's there to get so excited about?”
He fought for his control then.
”I'd like to know, Gina--where you saw her and--and--”
The girl interrupted him.
”I saw her in the evenings--in her garden. She used to walk down--well--it looked like a long lane of flowers. To be exact, Billy, it was always in the evening and kind of gray. So I couldn't see very much except that she wore a light clingy sort of dress.”
She stopped for a second.
”Yes, Gina?”
His voice was more quiet now.
”I told you she was a bit queer, didn't I?”
”Queer? G.o.d! she--was--lonesome--Gina!”