We have been celebrating my birthday,
but my birthday is past and gone--it is after midnight."
Lord Arleigh looked up in wonder.
"After midnight? Impossible! Yet I declare my watch proves that it is.
It is all the fault of the starlight, Lady Peters; you must blame that."
Lady Peters went out to them.
"I do not wonder at your lingering here," she said. "How calm and sweet
the night is! It reminds me of the night in 'Romeo and Juliet.' It was
on such a night _Jessica_--"
Philippa held up her hands in horror.
"No more poetry to-night, dear Lady Peters; we have had more than
enough."
"Is that true, Lord Arleigh? Have you really had more than enough?"
"I have not found it so," he replied. "However, I must go. I wish time
would sometimes stand still; all pleasant hours end so soon. Good-night,
Lady Peters."
But that most discreet of _chaperons_ had already re-entered the
drawing-room--it was no part of her business to be present when the two
friends said good-night.
"Good-night, Philippa," he said, in a low, gentle voice, bending over
her.
The wind stirred her perfumed hair until it touched his cheek, the
leaves of the crimson roses fell in a shower around her.
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