“I almost worship ’em.”
Theodore began to look uneasy, for Betsey had sot down close by the side of him and says she,
“Did you ever read the soul stirrin’ lines that Miss Woodhull refers to, I will rehearse them to you, and also three others of 25 verses apiece which I have wrote since on the same subject.”
I see a cold sweat begin to break on his white and almost marble forward, and with a agitated move he ketched out his watch and says he,
“I have a engagement.”
Says Betsey, beseechin’ly layin’ her hand on his coat sleeve, “I can rehearse them in 26 or 27 minutes, and oh how sweet your sympathy would be to me, let me repeat them to you deah man.”
A haggard look crept into his handsome eyes, and says he, wildly turnin’ ’em away, “It is a case of life and death,” and he hurried to the door.
But Betsey started up and got ahead of him, she got between him and the door, and says she, “I will let you off about hearin’ the poetry—but oh! listen to my otheh prayer.”
“I won’t listen to your prayer,” says he, firmly.
“In the name of the female wimmen of America who worship you so, pause, and heah my prayer.”