Later, Julia and her husband walked through the tidy streets of the town, looking in at lighted windows, listening to the patois of the peasants and recalling past times. It was then that he told her how he had that day tried to buy back the streaked daffodil.
"And Mijnheer would not sell it?" she asked.
"No," he answered; "not at any price, so I am afraid that you will have to do without "The Good Comrade" after all."
"I?" she said; "I can do quite well. Thank you for trying to get it; all the same I am not sure I want it back."
"Do you not? Then I am quite sure that I do not, indeed, I rather fancy I already have the real "Good Comrade.""