“My third—”—“Your third!” quoth Juan, turning round;
“You scarcely can be thirty: have you three?”
“No—only two at present above ground:
Surely ’tis nothing wonderful to see
One person thrice in holy wedlock bound!”
“Well, then, your third,” said Juan; “what did she?
She did not run away, too—did she, sir?”
“No, faith.”—“What then?”—“I ran away from her.”