Ere the quadrille was over, Dr. Oleander was ten fathoms deeper
in love than ever.
"It is so very hot here!" Mollie exclaimed, impatiently--"perfectly
stifling! Do let us go somewhere and get cool."
"Let us go into the conservatory," said Dr. Oleander, delightedly, quite
unconscious that his fair enslaver was playing into his hand. "We are
sure to find solitude and coolness there."
The conservatory was delightfully cool, after the African temperature of
the ball-room. Alabaster lamps shed a pale sort of moonlight over the
sleeping flowers, and splashing fountains, and marble goddesses.
Miss Dane sunk down under a large orange-tree and began fanning herself
languidly.
"How nice--this half light, these perfumed roses, those tinkling
water-falls, music, and solitude! Do I look like Love among the Roses,
Doctor Oleander?"
"Yes; like Love, like Venus, like everything that is bright, and
beautiful, and irresistible, Miss Dane!"
"Monsieur overwhelms me! Why, good gracious, sir! What do you mean?"
For Dr. Oleander had actually caught her in his arms and was pouring
forth a passionate declaration of love.
Pages:
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76