Ouf! I leaned out of window for fresh air.
There came a hurry of feet and little feet,
A sweep of lute-strings, laughs, and whifts of song—
… Round they went.
Scarce had they turned the corner with a titter,
Like the skipping of rabbits by moonlight,—three slim shapes,
And a face that look’d up.… Zooks, Sir, flesh and blood,
That’s all I’m made of! Into shreds it went,
Curtain and counterpane and coverlet,
All the bed furniture—a dozen knots,