text:  A wild young man he was and rather changeable; for sometimes he would have made sonnets to my eyebrows if he had had the gift of verse; sometimes he would have stabbed me to the heart if he had had a dagger; sometimes I was his adorable Lucy Ashton; then his tantalizing Miss Poggs; then his hated Betsy; whereas all the time I was nothing but the selfsame anonymous but fascinating creature who under all these names and in spite of all these variations in his humour loved him very truly and has no doubt whatever of being his wife