And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?"
The words recited by Mr. Chesney with much empressement soar upward and gain Guy's ear; Archibald is pointing his quotation with many impassioned glances and much tender emphasis; all of which is rather thrown away upon Lilian, who is not in the least sentimental.
"Read something livelier, Archie," she says, regarding her growing chain with unlimited admiration. "There is rather too much honey about that."
"If you can snub Shelley, I'm sure I don't know what it is you do like," returns he, somewhat disgusted. A slight pause ensues, filled up by the faint noise of the leaves of Chesney's volume as he turns them over impatiently.
"'Oh, my Luve's like a red, red, rose,'" he begins, bravely, but Lilian instantly suppresses him.
"Don't," she says: "that's worse. I always think what a horrid 'luve' she must have been. Fancy a girl with cheeks like that rose over there! Fancy writing a sonnet to a milk-maid! Go on, however; the other lines are rather pretty."
"Oh, my love's like a melody
That's sweetly played in tune,"