'Lady Kirkbank, eh? _la belle farce_, Lady Kirkbank standing out for etiquette.' 'Don't laugh at my chaperon, sir. Upon what rock can a poor girl lean if you undermine her faith in her chaperon, sir.' 'I hope you will have a better guardian before you are a month older. I mean to be a very strong rock, Lesbia. You do not know how firmly I shall stand between you and all the perils of society. You have been but poorly guarded hitherto.' 'You talk as if you mean to be an abominable tyrant,' said Lesbia. 'If you don't take care I shall change my mind, and recall my promise.' 'Not on that account, Lesbia: every woman likes a man who stands up for his own. It is only your invertebrate husband whose wife drifts into the divorce court. I mean to keep and hold the prize I have won. When is it to be, dearest--our wedding day?' 'Not for ages, I hope--some time next summer, at the earliest.' 'You would not be so cruel as to keep me waiting a year?' 'Why not?' 'You would not ask that if you loved me.' 'You are asking too much,' said Lesbia, with a flash of defiance. 'There has been nothing said about love yet. You asked me to be your wife, and I said yes--meaning that at some remote period such a thing might be.' She knew that the man was her slave--slave to her beauty, slave to her superior rank--and she was determined not to lessen the weight of his chain by so much as a feather. 'Did not that promise imply something like love?' he asked, earnestly. 'Perhaps it implied a little gratitude for your devotion, which I have neither courted nor encouraged; a little respect for your talents, your perseverance--a little admiration for your wonderful success in life. Perhaps love may follow these sentiments, naturally, easily, if you are very patient; but if you talk about our being married before next year, you will simply make me hate you.' 'Then I will say very little, except to remind you that there is no earthly reason why we should not be married next month. October and November are the best months for Rome, and I heard you say last night you were pining to see Rome.' 'What then--cannot Lady Kirkbank take me to Rome?' 'And introduce you to the rowdiest people in the city,' cried Mr. Smithson. 'Lesbia, I adore you. It is the dream of my life to be your husband; but if you are going to spend a winter in Italy with Lady Kirkbank, I renounce my right, I surrender my hope. You will not be the wife of my dreams after that.' 'Do you assert a right to control my life during our engagement?' 'Some little right; above all, the privilege of choosing your friends. And that is one reason why I most fervently desire our marriage should not be delayed. You would find it difficult, impossible perhaps, to get out of Lady Kirkbank's claws while you are single; but once my wife, that amiable old person can be made to keep her distance.' 'Lady Kirkbank's claws! What a horrible way in which to speak of a friend. I thought you adored Lady Kirkbank.'