CHAPTER XXXII. She fought the inclination for a while, then surrendered. She stood among them, watching them and feeling curiously alien to them. They are not your flowers. I must go to-night, or I shall never behold him again. . . Had he found the secret door? Running to the centre, she tried to judge where the knocking came from. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. Last night there had been no time. "Now stand before me, Poll. " "How so?" asked Thames.
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