"Let him be taking his la-di-da courting to those as favor it," says she.

"It's not my kind," and she grumbled through the lonely night.

"I wonder where my husband is now," she said.

"And wasn't I the foolish girl to be sending him off! Sure, he drank like a fish and beat me something cruel, but he was a rare lover, and the mood on him.

Sure, a woman never knows when she's well off," says she.
And Marco Polo didn't miss them any more nor you'd miss an old overcoat and the winter past.