Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud. She let him have it all, as it was, after all, for the last time. 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. " "Go on, tell me," he urged, enchanted. ” She laughed softly. I sha'n't cry any more.
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