I am dressed in white--white camellias in my hair, and another in my
hand. My mother has red camellias; so it would not be impossible to
take one from her--if I wished! I have a strange longing to put off the
decision to the last moment, and make him pay for his red camellia by a
little suspense.
What a vision of beauty! Griffith begged me to stop for a little and
be admired. The solemn crisis of the evening and the drama of my secret
reply have given me a color; on each cheek I sport a red camellia laid
upon a white!