And say, I got what was comin' to me then. He tears off two or three yards of it, all about moonlight and stars and kissin' and lovin', and a lot of gush like that. Honest, it would give you an ache under your vest!
"There!" says he. "Isn't that beautiful imagery?"
"Maybe," says I. "Guess I never happened to light on that part before."
"But surely you are familiar with his Madonna Mia?" says he.
"That got past me too," says I.
"It's here," says he, speakin' up quick. "Wait. Ah, this is it!" and hanged if he don't give me another dose, with more love in it than you could get in a bushel of valentines, and about as much sense as if he'd been readin' the dictionary backwards. He does it well, though, just as if it all meant something; and me settin' there listenin' until I felt like I'd been doped.
"Say, I take it all back," says I when he lets up. "That Swinny chap maybe ain't quite up to Wallace Irwin; but he's got Ella Wheeler pushed through the ropes. I've got to see a friend in the baggage car, though, and if you'll let me climb out past I'll speak to the brakeman about puttin' you off where you belong."
"You're very kind," says he. "Regret you can't stay longer."
Was that a josh, or what? Anyway, I figures I'm gettin' off easy, for there was a lot more of that blamed book he might have pumped into me if I hadn't ducked.
"Never again!" says I to myself. "Next time I gets curious I'll keep my mouth shut."