He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. Lucy stood in front of the piano. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames. ” “Well, tell me. It is the old story of a Westerner meddling with an Eastern custom. He was like a man beside himself.
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