It was a brilliant scene. The apartments of the Old Maids' Club had been artistically decked with the most gorgeous flowers that the millionaire could afford, and the epigrams had been carefully removed so as to leave the rooms free for dancing. As Lillie's father gazed around, he felt that not many millionaires could secure such a galaxy of beauty as circled in the giddy dance in his gilded saloon. It was, indeed, an unexampled gathering of pretty girls—this inaugural soirée of the Old Maids' Club, and the millionaire's shirt-front heaved with pride and pleasure and the Letter-Day Cupid that still hung on the wall seemed to take heart of grace again.
"You got my verses this morning, Rainbow mine?" said Silverdale, when the carriage drove off, and the honeymoon began.
It was almost the first moment they had had together the whole day.
"Yes," said Lillie softly. "And I wanted to tell you there are two lines which are truer than you meant."
"I am indeed, a poet, then! Which are they?"
Lillie blushed sweetly. Presently she murmured,
"'You followed logic to excess,
Repressing thoughts of tenderness.'
"How did you know that?" she asked, her brown eyes looking ingenuously into his.
"Love's divination, I suppose."