Polite he was and kind, but she could trace
A smile, or something like it, in his face;
’Twas not a look that gave her joy or pain—
She tried to read it, but she tried in vain.
Then call’d the Doctor—’twas his usual way—
To ask “How fares my worthy friend to-day?” 820
To feel his pulse, and as a friend to give
Unfee’d advice, how such a man should live;
And thus, digressing, he could soon contrive,
At his own purpose smoothly to arrive.