‘Do they, do they!’ repeated Hermione, looking closely.

‘From those little red bits, the nuts come; if they receive pollen from the long danglers.’

‘Little red flames, little red flames,’ murmured Hermione to herself. And she remained for some moments looking only at the small buds out of which the red flickers of the stigma issued.

‘Aren’t they beautiful? I think they’re so beautiful,’ she said, moving close to Birkin, and pointing to the red filaments with her long, white finger.

‘Had you never noticed them before?’ he asked.

‘No, never before,’ she replied.

‘And now you will always see them,’