Eyes full of liquid fire,
Hair bright as jet;
No one knows my hist’ry,
I am wrapt in myst’ry,
I am the She-ro
Of a penny novelette.’”
“Well, I hope,” said the Tenderfoot, “you jolly well lammed into him for such a piece of infernal cheek.”
“Yes, I did,” she confessed. “One day I turned on him and boxed his ears, and I’m bound to say he’s been very respectful ever since. It was very amusing to be reminded of his existence when he turned up the other day. He paid me all sorts of extravagant compliments; he seems to hold himself responsible for any success I may have had.”
“Nice of him.”
“He says he has written me up for the past two years; and that when he edits a paper of his own, and he’s quite made up his mind that it won’t be long before he does, I can have my portrait in it as often as I want.”