It seemed as if Malone wished to justify the preference, for the words were scarcely out of the speaker's mouth when Peter Augustus came up, all in _grande tenue_, gloved and scented, with his hair oiled and brushed to perfection, and bearing in one hand a huge bunch of cabbage-roses, five or six in full blow. These he presented to the heiress with a grace to which the most cunning pencil could do but defective justice. And who, after this, could dare to say that Peter was not a lady's man? He had gathered and he had given flowers; he had offered a sentimental, a poetic tribute at the shrine of Love or Mammon. Hercules holding the distaff was but a faint type of Peter bearing the roses. He must have thought this himself, for he seemed amazed at what he had done. He backed without a word; he was going away with a husky chuckle of self-satisfaction; then he bethought himself to stop and turn, to ascertain by ocular testimony that he really had presented a bouquet. Yes, there were the six red cabbages on the purple satin lap, a very white hand, with some gold rings on the fingers, slightly holding them together, and streaming ringlets, half hiding a laughing face, drooped over them. Only _half_ hiding! Peter saw the laugh; it was unmistakable. He was made a joke of; his gallantry, his chivalry, were the subject of a jest for a petticoat--for two petticoats: Miss Helstone too was smiling. Moreover, he felt he was seen through, and Peter grew black as a thunder-cloud. When Shirley looked up, a fell eye was fastened on her. Malone, at least, had energy enough in hate. She saw it in his glance.

The words were scarcely out of her mouth when Peter Augustus Malone came up, gloved and scented, with his hair oiled, and bearing in one hand a huge bunch of cabbage-roses. These he presented to the heiress. Who, after this, could dare to say that Peter was not a lady's man? He had given flowers; he had offered a sentimental tribute at the shrine of Love. He must have thought this himself, for he seemed amazed at what he had done. Backing off without a word, he was going away with a husky chuckle of self-satisfaction; then he bethought himself to stop and look back. There were the six red cabbages on the purple satin lap, a white hand holding them; and over them, ringlets, half hiding a laughing face.
Only half hiding! Peter saw the laugh; it was unmistakable. He was made a joke of; his chivalry was the subject of a jest for a petticoat - for two petticoats: Miss Helstone too was smiling. Peter grew black as a thunder-cloud. When Shirley looked up, a fell eye was fastened on her. Malone, at least, had energy enough in hate.
