I had quite a number of thoughts as I looked on the two men, over a dozen and a half, anyway.
Alice and Adrian wuz pickin’ some of the green ivy sprays, and they brung ’em to me and wanted me to look at ’em.
Sez Alice, “Some of this ivy that grows here so wild and luxuriant—acres of it, it seems to me—is just the kind that we see little slips of in our green-houses at home; do you see how beautiful it is?”
And she held up a few of the glossy leaves to Al Faizi.
He glanced at it, and then beyend into her sweet, uplifted face.
“Yes, I see how beautiful it is,” he sez softly, and he ended his words with a deep sithe.
And a shadder settled down over his face, and he turned to his writin’ agin.
As for Alice, she see nothin’, but kep’ a-gatherin’ her ivy sprays and a-singin’ to herself in her low, sweet voice—
“I give thee an ivy leaf,
Only an ivy leaf,