"Dear Jack:
It's delightfully gay here,--
Old Paris seemed never so fine,--
And mamma says we're going to stay here,
And papa--well, papa sips his wine
And says nothing. You know him of old, dear.
He's only too happy to rest,--
After making three millions in gold, dear.
He's played out, it must be confessed,--
And I--I'm to wed an old Baron
Three weeks from to-day, in great style
(He's as homely and gaunt as old Charon,
And they say that his past has been vile);
And I've promised to cut you hereafter,--
Small chance, though, we ever shall meet,--
So let's turn our old love into laughter,
And face the thing through. Shall we, sweet?
Can you give me up, Jack, to this _roué_,
Just because we may always be poor?
There's still enough time, dear, _et tu es_
_Un brave_,--you will come, I am sure.
Put your trunk on the swiftest Cunarder,
And don't give me up, Jack, for--well,
There are things in this world that are harder
Than poverty. Come to me!

NELL."