"Then, at last A chum I had began to laugh at me, For, I was now in love with Elenor Murray. Don't let her make a fool of you, he said, No girl who ever traveled with Roy Green Was not what he desired her, nor, before The kind of girl he wanted. Don't you know Roy Green is laughing at you in his sleeve, And boasts that Elenor Murray was all his? You see that stung me, for I thought at twenty Girls do not go so far, that only women Who sell themselves do so, or now and then A girl who is betrayed by hopes of marriage. And here was thrust upon me something devilish: The fair girl that I loved was wise already, And fooling me, and drinking in my love In mockery of me. This was my first Heart sickness, jaundice of the soul--dear me! And how I suffered, lay awake of nights, And wondered, doubted, hoped, or cursed myself, And cursed the girl as well. And I would think Of flirting eyes and hints and how she came To me before she went with this Roy Green. And I would hear the older men give hints About their conquests, speak of ways and signs From which to tell a woman. On the train Hear drummers boast and drop apothogems; The woman who drinks with you will be yours; Or she who gives herself to you will give To someone else; you know the kind of talk? Where wisdom of the sort is averaged up, But misses finer instances, the beauties Among the million phases of the thing. And, so at last I thought the girl was game. And had been snared, already. Why should I Be just a cooing dove, why not a hawk? We were out riding on a summer's night, A moon and all the rest, the scent of flowers, And many kisses, as on other times. At last with this sole object in my mind Long concentrated, purposed, all at once I found myself turned violent, with hands At grapple, twisting, forcing, and this girl In terror pleading with me. In a moment When I took time for breath, she said to me: 'I will not ride with you--you let me out.' To which I said: 'You'll do what I desire Or you can walk ten miles back to LeRoy, And find Roy Green, you like him better, maybe.' And she said: 'Let me out,' and she jumped out, And would not ride with me another step, Though I repented saying, come and ride. I think it was a mile or more I drove The horse slowed up to keep her company, And then I cracked the whip and hurried on, And left her walking, looked from time to time To see her in the roadway, then drove on And reached LeRoy, which Elenor reached that morning At one or two."