And, in the solitude of his room, it went far toward convicting him before himself, though he still laughed his hollow ha, ha, ha!
“Love at first sight! You! Old Brassid! Ha, ha, ha!”
He was speaking to the gentleman who faced him in the mirror.
At that moment she passed his door. She was softly singing:
“They sailed away
In a gallant bark.”
He had seen her but once, yet he knew the rustle of her silken skirts!
The next morning at ten Brassid was composing poems in bed, quite as he did at home—about her! He hummed and sang the things he fetched from within in a fashion which lent color to Mrs. Mouthon’s theory.
Some one knocked on his door.
“Come in!” sang Brassid, happily.