u, specially in matters
o' th' 'eart, Guv. Now me, 'avin' 'elped you into th' matrimonial ring,
as you might say, 'ave took your 'appiness under my wing, an', Guv, I
don't like the way you're shapin'--"

"But you see--"

"'Old 'ard, Guv, let a pore old cove get a word in for a change. Now
there's you an' 'er, your fair young spouse, both up to each other's
weight, sound in wind an' limb an' meant for j'y--what I want is
t' see you come to a clinch! This ain't no time for sparrin' an'
out-fightin'--yet 'ere you are a-feintin' at each other from opposite
corners--"

"But--"

"'Arf a mo', Guv, 'arf a mo'--gimme a chance for a occasional word! An'
don't frown, Guv, don't frown at a pore old cove; y' see, there's jest
three blokes in this 'ard world as my old 'eart warms to, an' one on 'em
's Joe, an' t' other un 's you, an' t' other un 's 'er--which ain't a
bloke. Lord, Guv, what a soft armful o' beauty! 'Ow warm an' cuddlesome!
Oh, Guv, what a waist! What lips! What--"

"Old Un, for heaven's sake, shut up! D' you think I'm blind? D' you
think--"

"Guv, I dunno wot t' think! 'Ere 's you with your 'ead in your 'ands,
an' there's 'er sighin' an' sighin'--"

"Sighing? Where? When? Why--"

"Sighin' an' sighin', Guv, so soft an' pretty--I 'eard 'er! Also she
wep'--I seen 'er."

"Where?"

"An' 'er tears, Guv, them pearly tears went t' my 'eart--an' nobody t'
put a arm round that waist, nor kiss them sweet lips, nor soothe them
tears away--

"'Oh, alone she sat sighin' by a green willer tree,
With 'er 'and on 'er bosom, 'er 'ead on 'er knee,
Weepin' willer" willer, willer my garlan' shall be.'

"So, Guv, I ax you, man to man, why, oh, why are ye neglectin' your fair
young spouse? An', Guv, I only ax because your 'appiness an' 'ers is
mine--s' 'elp me!"

"How if it's the other way about, Old Un? Suppose she avoids me?"

"Why lumme, Guv! 'T is a sure sign she needs persoot. Remember this:

"'Im as would lovely woman woo
'E lovely woman must persoo,
For if 'e don't, 't is plain as plain
That feller 'e will woo in vain.'

"An', Guv, I've only took th' liberty o' sayin' this because my pore old
bowels yearns to ye--both on ye. Persoot's the word, Guv, per-soot!"

The Old Un nodded, rose, and creaked away, and Ravenslee, looking after
him, scowled no longer, but rising, sauntered across the trim garden to
where there was a lily pool and, leaning over the marble rim, stared
down into the placid water.

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