"I sha'n't," said the earl.
Her hand still rested upon the rail—his hand still covered hers. She was gazing across the harbor at the countless lights of Venice. The warm night breeze from the lagoon dimpled the waters of the harbor until the reflected lights began to tremble. There was no sound, save the tinkle of the water against the side and the faint cry of a gondolier, in the distance.
"Bobby," said Lady Nora, finally, "it is nice to be here, just you and
I."
He made a quick motion to take her in his arms, but she started back. "No, no," she said, "not yet; not till you earn me. There may be many a slip 'twixt the cup and"—she put her fingers to her lips.
Miss O'Kelly's chin fell upon her topazes so sharply that she wakened with a start.
"Nora, darlin'?" she cried, looking about her.
"Here I am," said Lady Nora, coming into the light.
"Ah," said her aunt, "and Lord Robert, too. I thought he had gone. I must have had forty winks."
"I was only waiting," said the earl, "to bid you good-night."
"An Irishman," said Miss O'Kelly, "would have taken advantage of me slumbers, and would have kissed me hand."