Noll whistled:
“Oho!” said he.
“Quite so.”
There was an uncomfortable pause.
“Who?” asked Noll.
“God only knows. But come in here, Noll,” said the old lady; and led him into her little sitting-room. She lit the gas; went to her writing-table; took a rumpled piece of paper out of a drawer, and handed it to Noll.
Noll smoothed out the piece of paper, glanced at the grim old face before him from under his brows; and read:
“There’s glory in my dear love’s hair,
Sweet fragrance hath great part in it;
The threads have caught my feet in lair,