And Jack thought he’d best go, the way he came,
Like a well-bred dog, prophetic.
He tried again, “If you remember,
We went together, last September,
To see the Hippopotamus,
And how, in the crowd, when you dropped those loves
Of delicate tinted primrose gloves,
As I hunted about with kicks and shoves,
Do you recollect who brought ’em us?
“Lord Augustus Aype, that cheválièr preûx,