Chapter 1

"Come right in. How are you, Fred? Find a chair, and get a light." "Well, old man, recovered yet From the Mather's jam last night?" "Didn't dance. The German's old." "Didn't you? I had to lead-- Awful bore! Did you go home?" "No. Sat out with Molly Meade. Jolly little girl she is-- Said she didn't care to dance, 'D rather sit and talk to me-- Then she gave me such a glance! So, when you had cleared the room, And impounded all the chairs, Having nowhere else, we two Took possession of the stairs. I was on the lower step, Molly, on the next above, Gave me her bouquet to hold, Asked me to undo her glove. Then, of course, I squeezed her hand, Talked about my wasted life; 'Ah! if I could only win Some true woman for my wife, How I'd love her--work for her! Hand in hand through life we'd walk-- No one ever cared for me--' Takes a girl--that kind of talk. Then, you know, I used my eyes-- She believed me, every word-- Said I 'mustn't talk so'--Jove! Such a voice you never heard. Gave me some symbolic flower,-- 'Had a meaning, oh, _so_ sweet,'-- Don't know where it is, I'm sure; Must have dropped it in the street. How I spooned!--And she--ha! ha!-- Well, I know it wasn't right-- But she pitied me so much That I--kissed her--pass a light."