207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. " "Egad, Jack," said Gay, "you should write your adventures. You love money. Jolly nose! he who sees thee across a broad glass Beholds thee in all thy perfection; And to the pale snout of a temperate ass Entertains the profoundest objection. ! He’ll come a cropper one of these days, if you ask me. But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader. ’ ‘You need not be a nun,’ he said, leaning towards her. He was caked with dried muck.
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