It is in this solitude, a syllable, Out of these gawky flitterings, Intones its single emptiness, The savagest hollow of winter-sound.

People who sell used-up pens are scum, just total low-lives.

Her arm looped around the roo bar and she pulled herself into a more upright position, ignoring the sharp stab in her leg.

It was simply a certified copy of the decree in the divorce case of a prominent society woman, Mrs. Percy Schermerman, who had named as corespondent a still more prominent woman, Mrs. Willoughby Worthington. The evidence had been sealed, and the yellower papers had toiled in vain to find out just who the prominent corespondent was.