“There was a man,” quoth she—
“Oh, don’t detain me, dowager!”
Eftsoons her hand dropt she.
She held him with her glittering eye,
Seen through her pince-nez glass;
He listens, like a three-years’ child,
Although he feels an ass.
He leans upon her brougham door,
He cannot choose but hear,
And this she said, with bended head—