She was aware of a strangeness in her being. It made her uncertain.

She caught sight of the flowering currant in her brother's buttonhole.

“Oh, our Fred,” she cried. “Don't wear that stuff to go to church.”

Fred looked down protectively at the pink adornment on his breaSt. “Why, I like it,” he said.

“Then you're the only one who does, I'm sure,” she said.

And she turned to her cousin.

“Do you like the smell of it?” she asked.

He was there beside her, tall and uncouth and yet self-possessed. It excited her.

“I can't say whether I do or not,”