And everything that isn’t old, from Gillows’.
And, on the other, a dark dingy room
In some back street, with stuffy children crying,
Where organs yell and clacking housewives fume,
And clothes are hanging out all day a-drying:
With one cracked looking-glass to see your face in,
And dinner served up in a pudding basin.
Oh, god of Love and god of Reason—say
Which of you twain shall my poor heart obey?
But the two potentates, so pathetically appealed to, declined to undertake the responsibility of advising her. I expect they both thought that she was quite old enough to judge for herself.