I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. You don’t know the thoughts we have; the things we can do and say. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. John knew better. For although I must confess it reads very much like an application or a testimonial or some such thing as that, I can assure you I am writing this in fear and trembling with a sinking heart. The roof was partially untiled; the chimneys were tottering; the side-walls bulged, and were supported by a piece of timber propped against the opposite house; the glass in most of the windows was broken, and its place supplied with paper; while, in some cases, the very frames of the windows had been destroyed, and the apertures were left free to the airs of heaven. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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