You have been to me like a mother, not only a wetnurse. "Who is it?" "He didn't give his name, Sir," replied the maid; "but he's a young gentleman. A pair of startled blue eyes looked up into his. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. Gently she raised his head and withdrew the coat from under the pillow. He pulled rein at the sight of her, saluted, and regarded her with his rather too protuberant eyes.
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