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letters. He was vastly relieved when his excellent memory came to his aid. He made a
    stab at the first two lines.
    "Behold yon pond where drops of sunlight gleam and glitter.
    It holds such wondrous treasures for I who am content to sit and dream here."
    "You remembered." Emily looked as thrilled as if he had just given her a fortune in gems. Then she
    blushed and added in a confiding tone, "I realize I ought to rework parts of it. I do not precisely care for
    the way 'dream here' rhymes with 'glitter.' Twitter or flitter would be better, don't you think?"
    "Well," Simon began carefully, "it is hard to say."
    "Not that it signifies at the moment," she told him cheerfully. "I am working on a major project and it will
    be some time before I get back to Verses on a Summer Day Beside a Pond."
    "A major project?" Somehow the conversation was beginning to get away from him, Simon realized.
    "Yes, I am calling it The Mysterious Lady. It is to be a long epic poem of adventure and the darker
    passions in the manner of Byron." She glanced up at him shyly. "You are the only one besides the
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    members of the literary society whom I have told about it thus far, my lord."
    "I am honored," Simon drawled. "Adventure and dark passions, eh?"
    "Oh, yes. It is all about a young woman with hair the color of a wild sunset who goes in search of her
    lover who has disappeared. They were to be married, you see. But her family disapproved of him and
    forbade them to see each other. He was obliged to take his leave. But before he left he gave her a ring
    and assured her he would be back to carry her off and marry her in spite of her family."
    "But something went wrong with the plan?"
    "Yes. He has not returned and the heroine knows he is in trouble and needs her desperately."
    "How does she know that?" Simon inquired.
    "She and the hero are so close, so united by their pure and noble passion for each other that they are
    capable of communicating on a higher plane. She just knows he is in trouble. She leaves home and hearth
    to search for him."
    "A rather risky business. Perhaps he simply used her parents' disapproval as an excuse to abandon her.
    Perhaps he had gotten tired of her and being kicked out by her family was a neat way to extricate himself
    from the embarrassment of an entanglement he did not want." As soon as he had said the words, Simon
    wanted to kick himself. The appalled expression on Emily's face was enough to touch what small bit of
    conscience he had left.
    "Oh, no," Emily breathed. "It was not like that at all."
    "Of course it wasn't," Simon said, forcing a grim smile. "I was merely teasing you. You must forgive me.
    How could I know the story behind your poem? You are the one writing it."
    "Precisely. And I promise you it will have a happy ending. I prefer happy endings, you see."
    "Tell me something, Miss Faringdon. If someone gave you ten thousand pounds today, what would you
    do with it?"
    The otherworldly excitement vanished as if by magic. Behind the lenses of her spectacles, Emily's dreamy
    gaze turned abruptly shrewd at his sudden question. Razor sharp intelligence glittered like green fire in
    those elfin eyes. "I would buy several shares of stock in a new canal venture I have recently learned
    about, perhaps buy some bank stock, and then put some money into the four percents. I would be
    careful with the latter, however. The tiresome war against Napoleon will soon be over and the values of
    the funds might well drop. One must be ready to move swiftly when one is dealing with government
    money."
    "Excellent," he muttered under his breath. "I just wanted to make certain I had the right female. For a
    moment there I had begun to wonder."
    Emily blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
    "Never mind. A private joke." Simon smiled down at her. "Your financial advice makes very good sense,
    Miss Faringdon. Your strategy and mine are very much the same."
    "Oh. Do