But it would have been
tedious enough waiting in that close hall if the ladies behind me
had not kept up a conversation, which I, of course, pretended not
to hear. I remember it, every word, for it was my sole amusement
for half an hour. What was it? Oh, it was about that same bouquet,
which, by the way, I had the privilege of staring at all the time
they chatted. For the boy who brought it had not been admitted
into Miss Moore's room, and, not knowing what else to do with it,
was lingering before her door, with the great streamers falling
from his hands, and the lilies making the whole place heavy with a
sickening perfume. From what I heard the ladies say, he had been
standing there an hour, and the timid knock he gave from time to
time produced in me an odd feeling which those ladies behind me
seemed to share.
"'It's a shame!' I heard one of them cry. 'Veronica Moore has no
excuse for such thoughtlessness. It is an hour now that she has
been shut up in her room alone. She won't have even her maid in.
She prefers to dress alone, she says. Peculiar in a bride, isn't
it? But one thing is certain: she can not put on her veil without
help. She will have to call some one in for that.' At which the
other volunteered that the Moores were all queer, and that she
didn't envy Francis Jeffrey.
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