XV
And those who made a Mint off Miss MacLane,
And those who shuddered at her Jests profane,
Alike consigned her to Oblivion,
And buried once, would not dig up again.
XVI
Anthony Hope men set their hearts upon—
Like Conan Doyle he prospered; and anon,
Remained unopened on the dusty Shelf,
Delighting us an Hour—and then was gone.