Miss Jay [continuing].
But certain people always grow splenetic—
Why, goodness knows—at everything pathetic,
And scoff it down. We all know how, of late,
An unfledged, upstart undergraduate
Presumed, with brazen insolence, to declare
That "William Russell" was a poor affair!
Falk.
But what has this to do with Strawman, pray?
Is he a poem, or a Christian play?
Miss Jay [with tears of emotion].
No, Falk,—a man, with heart as large as day.
But when a—so to speak—mere lifeless thing
Can put such venom into envy's sting,
And stir up evil passions fierce and fell
Of such a depth—
Falk [sympathetically].
And such a length as well—
Miss Jay.
Why then, a man of your commanding brain
Can't fail to see—
Falk.
Oh yes, that's very plain.
But hitherto I haven't quite made out
The nature, style, and plot of this romance.
It's something quite delightful I've no doubt—
But just a little inkling in advance—
