The Duchess feared neither God nor man, but if fear had been possible to her, it would have been for that dignified, yet elusive, personage, whom she panted to call her son-in-law.
She sat down by him with anxiety and determination in her eyes.
"By starlight, and by candlelight, and dreamlight she comes to me," said Stephen to himself, with a sardonic smile. "Also by daylight, and when noon is on the roses, and when I am at work and at play. In short, she always comes."
"What a perfect night!" said the Duchess.
"Perfect."
"And that song—how beautiful!"
"Beautiful."
"I did not know you cared for poetry?"
"I don't."