Some Of The Craftiest Scoundrels That Ever

Ah, If Only I Had Brought A Cigar With Me! This Would Have Established My Identity.

But The Words She Spoke Of Mrs Harris, Lambs Could Not Forgive ... Nor Worms Forget.

If I May So Express It, I Was Steeped In Dora. I Was Not Merely Over Head And Ears In Love With Her, But I Was Saturated Through And Through. Enough Love Might Have Been Wrung Out Of Me, Metaphorically Speaking, To Drown Anybody In; And Yet There Would Have Remained Enough Within Me, And All Over Me, To Pervade My Entire Existence.

I Was So Humiliated, Hurt, Spurned, Offended, Angry, Sorry--i Cannot Hit Upon The Right Name For The Smart--god Knows What Its Name Was--that Tears Started To My Eyes.

It Was The Beginning Of A Day In June; The Deep Blue Sky Unsullied By A Cloud, And Teeming With Brilliant Light. The Streets Were, As Yet, Nearly Free From Passengers, The Houses And Shops Were Closed, And The Healthy Air Of Morning Fell Like Breath From Angels, On The Sleeping Town.