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JACK was going, that night, to his club-rooms,
Valises and bandbox he bore;
"Theatrical night" he informed me
As he hastily slammed to the door.
So I, left alone for the evening,
Drew a chair to the side of the fire,
Took a well-colored pipe and "Ik Marvel" -
What more could a fellow desire?
I leisurely read through the chapters
Entitled "Smoke, Ashes, and Flame,"
Then in gloom, save the glow of the embers,
I, too, built my castles in Spain.
First, a snug little nest in the country
With roses and ivy entwined,
Then a wife in whose exquisite nature
The Muses and Graces combined.
Next - But here the door swings softly inward,
And a woman's form enters the room.
"Who art thou?" I gasp out to the vision,
As it silently glides through the gloom.
O'er the face of the mystic intruder
Comes Jack's well-remembered broad grin,
And he says, "Cut the strings of these corsets,
Will you, Tom, for they pinch me like sin."
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