Hubert wondered what had become of that blue hyacinth, whether it had flourished or withered away in the new pot she had put it in, if she had transplanted it into the garden later on, or what. He had seen hyacinths growing out in the open, he was sure of that. Perhaps that same hyacinth was in her front garden now, or in a sunny place at the back. If it was there, would it have grown bigger, and would it bloom every year, or what? He would ask her about the hyacinth tonight, just out of curiosity.

For a girl brought up in a town, Rose had an unusual interest in gardening and a great feeling for flowers. Her two gardens, the little one in the front of the house and the bigger one behind it, were always lovely. Even in the wintertime she managed to have something out there that would catch your attention. Even in the wintertime the beds had an appearance of order and form, and looked as though they were keeping to a pattern that had been devised for them, for those particular beds, and never for any other beds in any other garden. Rose had gone mad over the gardens in Stephen’s Green Park. She said she had never imagined anything like the park. He had a memory of her walking there in a navy blue skirt and a long-sleeved white blouse and no coat. It must have been a very warm day. The navy blue skirt had a matching coat that went with it. She called this outfit her costume, and it had been her wedding dress.

The park was full of mothers and nursemaids and children that afternoon. The women sat along on the benches that lined the paths, and they talked to one another and watched the children and admired them and scolded them and called to them. The children were running all over the place. He and Rose strolled along. They were not yet used to being together.

Rose said, “I was just thinking, it’s nice being married.”

Hubert looked at her, but she was not looking at him.

She said, “I can’t see how a married person could ever commit a sin. I don’t know what kind of a sin it would be that a married person could commit. There isn’t a single thing I can think of that I would have to tell the priest if I went to confession this minute. Nothing is a sin anymore. Isn’t that funny?”