Algernon shrugged his shoulders.
"You can be trained here, of course. There are plenty of singers who have never been out of England, but—I thought you meant to aim high."
"I do aim high," said Juliet, with a little toss of the head; "you know that I aim at the top. I could not bear to be anything but a first-rate singer."
"Then you must go abroad," said Algernon. "The London winter is not good for you. A season or two in Italy would mellow your voice and bring it to perfection, to say nothing of the training you would get there."
"Yes, yes," said Juliet eagerly; "but how can I arrange it?"
"There is but one way in which we can arrange it," he said slowly.
"And that is?"
"You must go as my wife, darling," he said, turning his eyes on her and speaking in low, impressive tones. "You must go with me as your husband by your side to protect you. There is no other way."
"Algernon!" Juliet looked at him with startled eyes, and recoiled a little from him. "What can you mean? How could I marry you now? Oh, that cannot happen for a long, long time. Mother would never give her consent."
"I know that, dearest. Neither she nor your sisters would ever give their consent, either to your marrying me or to your being trained as an opera singer. If you are in earnest, you must make up your mind to act independently of them."