“It is only a dream! We must wake now! I—and you—have forgotten!”
“Forgotten what, dearest?” he said.
“Forgotten who you are, and what I am.”
“You are an angel!” he remarked, seating himself beside her, and stealing his arm round her waist.
“I am an actress, and you are a viscount,” she said.
“I believe I am,” he said, smilingly. “But, all the same, you are an angel! Every moment I expect to see you spread your wings, and fly from me.”
“So I shall directly,” she said, with a smile that was half-sorrowful. “I am an actress—one of the people! One who has no status, no standing in the world; and you are a nobleman! You will be a marquis some day, will you not?”
“I daresay,” he assented, carelessly, trying to decide whether she was more beautiful, grave or smiling.
“There is a gulf between you and me, Lord Neville!”
“Cecil, if you please!”