This is the nineteenth century, and there are
no _Juliets_."
"There are plenty of _Romeos_, though," he remarked, laughingly. "The
sweetest dreams in my life are the briefest. Will you pluck one of those
roses for me and give it to me, saying, 'I promise to be your friend?'"
"You make me do things against my will," she said; but she plucked a
rose, and held it toward him in her hand. "I promise to be your friend,"
she said, gently.
Lord Arleigh kissed the rose. As he did so their eyes met; and it would
have been hard to tell which blushed the more deeply. After that,
meetings between them became more frequent. Lord Arleigh made seeing her
the one great study of his life--and the result was what might be
imagined.
Chapter XVIII.
The yacht of Mr. Conyers, one of the richest commoners in England--a
yacht fitted as surely no yacht ever before had been fitted--was for
sale. He was a wealthy man, but to keep that sea-palace afloat was
beyond his means. The Duchess of Hazlewood was sole mistress of a large
fortune in her own right; the duke had made most magnificent settlements
upon her.
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