Then we relapsed into a discomfited silence, and wished we were anywhere else. But Miss Thorn relieved the situation by laughing aloud, and with such a hearty enjoyment that instead of getting angry and more mortified we began to laugh ourselves, and instantly felt better.

So I says to him, no, I can′t go back to the pozzy I′m sharing with Snowy Fisher and the late Pap.

Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings, / Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, / Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine— […]

Repose! The very word has a nostalgic ring to it, conjuring up a vanished world of pale solitude, gentle distances, summer vistas, languour, and lovely women …