she was a veritable queen among mice.
“Do you remember that thing of Suckling’s?—
“‘Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Like little mice, ran in and out,
As if they feared the light.’
“Pretty, rather, I think.”
“What’s pretty?”
“Oh, I don’t know—your feet, I suppose.”
he had fought five suitors to win her.
He felt disappointed. Surely it was the feet that profited by the comparison. Still, he knew that the whole conversation would amuse his wife, and rushed off to tell her before he should forget it.