She knew that this beloved garden was to be the scene of the binding words that must seal their as yet unworded understanding . `` Some evenings a strange odor blows down the air of this garden , like a phantom perfume , '' said Owen . `` I have never been able to discover from just what flower it comes . It is elusive and haunting and wonderfully sweet . I like to fancy it is the soul of Grandmother Selwyn passing on a little visit to the old spot she loved so well . There should be a lot of friendly ghosts about this little old house . '' `` I have lived under its roof only a month , '' said Leslie , `` but I love it as I never loved the house over there where I have lived all my life . '' `` This house was builded and consecrated by love , '' said Owen . `` Such houses , MUST exert an influence over those who live in them . And this garden -- it is over sixty years old and the history of a thousand hopes and joys is written in its blossoms . Some of those flowers were actually set out by the schoolmaster 's bride , and she has been dead for thirty years . Yet they bloom on every summer . Look at those red roses , Leslie -- how they queen it over everything else ! '' `` I love the red roses , '' said Leslie . `` Anne likes the pink ones best , and Gilbert likes the white . But I want the crimson ones . They satisfy some craving in me as no other flower does . '' `` These roses are very late -- they bloom after all the others have gone -- and they hold all the warmth and soul of the summer come to fruition , '' said Owen , plucking some of the glowing , half-opened buds . `` The rose is the flower of love -- the world has acclaimed it so for centuries . The pink roses are love hopeful and expectant -- the white roses are love dead or forsaken -- but the red roses -- ah , Leslie , what are the red roses ? ''
`` Love triumphant , '' said Leslie XXXXX a low voice .
about after as by down in like of to under