The half-closed door my back was turned unto.
"His housekeeper," thinks I: "I'll not look round
Until he speak, but seem in thought profound,
Still gazing on that face for charms renowned."
"My niece, my friend." I introduced am now,
And so, perforce, must turn me round and bow.
When, like Miss Lalla Rookh,
In Moore's delightful book
(Who found her husband was Young What's-his-name),
I with amazement found