The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. He went on with his song, accompanying it with the most ridiculous grimaces: "When years were gone by, she began to rue Her love for the gentleman, (meaning you!) 'I slighted the journeyman fond,' quoth she, 'But where is my gallant of high degree? Where! where! Oh! where is my gallant of high degree?' Ho! ho! ho!" "What are you doing here!" demanded Thames. Thank goodness you’ll understand.
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