"Tell me about it," the girl said, and then she was walking again, her impulse buy clutched in her hands.  By the time she'd reached their flat and passed the sneering doorman she'd begun to regret that impulse.   He'd surely think she'd lost what little of her mind remained and she decided, as she pushed the door open, that she'd just put the flower in water and say she'd thought it was pretty if he asked.  She didn't need to tell him she'd bought it for him.