When a scab comes down the street, men turn their backs and angels weep in heaven, and the devil shuts the gates of hell to keep him out.

There are many things to be considered before that question can be answered properly, I said, sententiously. First and foremost, do you love Mr. Edgar?

He took the great, round world in his hand, so to speak, familiarly, contemptuously, and it seemed no larger than the seed of a Maraschino cherry in a table d’hôte grape fruit.

They ringed the trees to make the clearing easier next year.