A CHANCE FOR GAIN.

I met him in the busy mart;

His eyes are large, his lips are firm,

And on his temples, care or sin

Has left its claw prints hardened in;

His step is nervous and infirm;

I wondered if he had a heart.

He blandly smiled and took my hand.

He owed me such a debt, he thought,

He felt he never could repay;

Yet should I call on him that day,

He'd hand me what the papers brought,

For which I once had made demand.

Then added, turning grave from gay;

“But you must promise, if I give,

Your lover's office to resign,

And stand no more‘ twixt me and mine.”

His words were water in a sieve.

I turned my back and strode away.