ong those strawberry-leaves. And so I
told you the story of Meg Speedwell, and how she lived happily ever
after. Nay, hear me out! The blood of Meg Speedwell's lord flows in
my veins. I think I may boast that I have inherited something of his
sagacity. In any case, I can profit by his example. Do not fear that
I, if you were to wed me, should demand a metamorphosis of your present
self. I should take you as you are, gladly. I should encourage you to be
always exactly as you are--a radiant, irresistible member of the upper
middle-class, with a certain freedom of manner acquired through a
life of peculiar liberty. Can you guess what would be my principal
wedding-gift to you? Meg Speedwell had her dairy. For you, would be
built another outhouse--a neat hall wherein you would perform your
conjuring-tricks, every evening except Sunday, before me and my tenants
and my servants, and before such of my neighbours as might care to come.
None would respect you the less, seeing that I approved. Thus in
you would the pleasant history of Meg Speedwell repeat itself. You,
practising for your pleasure--nay, hear me out!--that sweet and lowly
handicraft which--"

"I won't listen to another word!" cried Zuleika. "You are the most
insolent person I have ever met. I happen to come of a particularly good
family. I move in the best society. My manners are absolutely perfect.
If I found myself in the shoes of twenty Duchesses simultaneously, I
should know quite well how to behave. As for the one pair you can offer
me, I kick them away--so. I kick them back at you. I tell you--"

"Hush," said the Duke, "hush! You are over-excited. There will be a
crowd under my window. There, there! I am sorry. I thought--"

"Oh, I know what you thought," said Zuleika, in a quieter tone. "I am
sure you meant well. I am sorry I lost my temper. Only, you might have
given me credit for meaning what I said: that I would not marry you,
because I did not love you. I daresay there would be great advantages
in being your Duchess. But the fact is, I have no worldly wisdom. To me,
marriage is a sacrament. I could no more marry a man about whom I could
not make a fool of myself than I could marry one who made a fool of
himself about me. Else had I long ceased to be a spinster. Oh my friend,
do not imagine that I have not rejected, in my day, a score of suitors
quite as eligible as you."

"As eligible? Who were they?" frowned the Duke.

"Oh, Archduke this, and Grand