He can't hear," and Sam plunged into the story.
The ice was broken.

In a few moments a whist party was made up to include the Honourable Frederic, and Miss Limpenny breathed more freely.

Mr.Moggridge was led up by Sam, and introduced.
"Ah, indeed! Mr.Moggridge, I have been so longing to know you." Sam looked a trifle vexed.

The poet simpered that he was happy.
"Of course I have been reading 'Ivy Leaves.' So mournful I thought them, yet somehow so attractive.

How _did_ you write it all ?" Mr.Moggridge confessed amiably that he "didn't quite know." "Let me see; those lines beginning--" 'O give me wings to--to--' "I forget for the moment how it goes on." "'To fly away,'" suggested the bard.
"Ah, exactly; 'to fly away.' So simple--just what one _would_ wish wings for, you know.