It might have been the garden of the Capulets, and those who moved in it--the immortal lovers, as yet uncursed by Fate.
"Only three more days," sighed Lucian as he walked slowly down the path beside Diana, "and then that noisy London again." "Perhaps it is as well," said Diana, in her practical way.

"You would rust here.

But is there any need for you to go back so soon ?" "I must--for my own peace of mind." Diana started and blushed at the meaning of his tone and words.
Then she recovered her serenity and sat down on an old stone seat, near which stood a weather-beaten statue of Venus.

Seeing that she kept silent in spite of his broad hint, Lucian--to bring matters to a crisis--resolved to approach the subject in a mythological way through the image of the goddess.
"I am sorry I am not a Greek, Miss Vrain," he said abruptly.
"Why ?" asked Diana, secretly astonished by the irrelevancy of the remark.
Lucian plucked a red rose from the bush which grew near the statue and placed it on the pedestal.
"Because I would lay my offering at the feet of the goddess, and touch her knees to demand a boon." "What boon would you ask ?" said Diana in a low voice.
"I would beseech that in return for my rose of flowers she would give me the rose of womanhood." "A modest request.

Do you think it would be granted ?" "Do you ?" asked Lucian, picking up the rose again.
"How can I reply to your parables, or read your dark sayings ?" said Diana, half in earnest, half in mirth.
"I can speak plainer if you permit it." "If--if you like!" The young man laid the rose on Diana's lap.