Tell me his number, and I'll jot it down on this scrap of paper.

… from the land of your origin, because you demand the claims of those who believe it more model than yours, …

The blonde one, old Bernice, was drinking bourbon and water. She was really putting it away, too.

The heaven was spangled with tremulous stars, and at the horizon the clouds hung down in gossamer folds—God's robe trailing in the sea!