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Robert W Service - The Pretty Lady
Work rating: Medium

He asked the lady in the train
If he might smoke: she smiled consent.
So lighting his cigar and fain
To talk he puffed away content,
Reflecting: how delightful are
               Fair dame and fine cigar.

Then from his bulging wallet he
A photograph with pride displayed,
His charming wife and children three,
When suddenly he was dismayed
To hear her say: `These notes you`ve got,—
               I want the lot.`

He scarcely could believe his ears.
He laughed: `The money isn`t mine.
To pay it back would take me years,
And so politely I decline.
Madame, I think you speak in fun:
               Have you a gun?`

She smiled. `No weapon have I got,
Only my virtue, but I swear
If you don`t hand me out the lot
I`ll rip my blouse, let down my hair,
Denounce you as a fiend accurst . . .`
               He told her: `Do your worst.`

She did. Her silken gown she tore,
Let down her locks and pulled the cord
That stopped the train, and from the floor
She greeted engineer and guard:
`I fought and fought in vain,` she cried.
               `Save me,—I`m terrified!`

The man was calm; he stood aloof.
Said he: `Her game you understand;
But if you doubt, behold the proof
Of innocence is in my hand.`
And as they stared into the car
They saw his logic in a flash . . .
Aloft he held a lit cigar
               With two inches of ash.
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