Yet not from sight had she slipped ere feminine eyes could detect
The figure of Mary Charlworth. ‘It’s just what we all might expect,’
Was uttered: and: ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ Of Mary the rumour resounds,
That she is now her own mistress, and mistress of five thousand
pounds.
’Twas she, they say, who cruelly sent young Tom to the war.
Miss Mary, we thank you now! If you knew what we’re thanking you for!