XXIX MALISE—ROBES

The address is good—10A North Molton Street— I’m clever at the trade, and doing well; Haven’t a single cause for discontent! Wilfrid is pleased: I’m safe: why mourn (you say) The old days when I loved him, and was poor? Ah, why! Fool, fool—to ask one that! I love him still, I think. Sometimes he comes And takes me off to Paris for a week; Flatters himself I’m “doing well at last”; That he’s not brought me harm; but, rather, good. It ought to be enough! And yet, and yet— You see I’m thirty-five, and I’ve no child.... True, I’ve the shares in “Malise Limited,” And that’s worth fifteen hundred solid pounds a year.... I’ll marry my Paris buyer. He’s a good sort: And we’ll soon be very rich.... But I’m so tired. I wish he’d only kept me in a flat Somewhere in Maida Vale; come once a week And let me cook the dinner.... Votes! Good God, The way to manage women is the Turk’s.... But Wilfred’s such a little gentleman! He can’t forget He didn’t find me in the streets, but in the saddle —— years, years ago! out with the Quorn.