“I had another rhyme—and after all the rhyme’s the difficulty. How about this?—
“ ‘All Heaven’s ours if Prudence we can gain,
Our silly hands build Fortune’s empty fane!’ ”
“Really you fire me to emulation,” I said. “I think I’ll try my own hand at it—
“ ‘If Prudence loves, what other boon need I?’ ”
“Splendid!” he cried, puffing at his empty pipe.
“ ‘Unless a bishop’s palace by-and-by?’ ”
This audacious departure from the original affected him powerfully. He laid a hand like a pair of tweezers on my wrist and cried excitedly—
“You’ve been talking to her!”
“So have you,” said I, “and to better purpose.”