THE NEWEST HOPE.

Dear Betty, in the good old days,

Before this Armageddon stunt,

We floated down still water-ways

Ensconced within a cushioned punt;

With mingled terror and delight

I felt the toils around me closing,

Until one starry moonlit night,

Discreetly veiled from vulgar sight,

I found myself proposing.

You heard my ravings with a smile,

And then confessed you liked my cheek,

But thought my nose denoted guile

And feared my chin was rather weak;

My character with fiendish glee

You treated to a grim dissection,

Then as a final jeu d'esprit

You cynically offered me

A sisterly affection.

But now within my faithful heart

New hope has sprung to sudden life;

In fancy (somewhat à la carte)

I see you more or less my wife;

The way is found, the path is clear,

The resolution moved and carried—

If you have pluck enough, my dear,

To risk a rather new career ...

We might be slightly married.*

* In his book, What is Coming, Mr. H. G. Wells sees "a vision of the slightly-married woman."