'I'm doghoused and I don't know why. She's in there bawling.'

Whether it is better on the original arpeggione, I am helpless to say.

He saw the processional of world brotherhood tramp steadily through the paling sunset; saffron-vestured Mandarin marching by flax-faced Norseman and languid South Sea Islander—the diverse peoples toward whom he had always yearned.

Hypothetically, what would you say if I proposed marriage to you?