He had knocked over my girl, I had got to fix him for it; and I lay there and gritted my teeth, and footed up the chances. My leg was broke, my gun was gone. Case had still ten shots in his Winchester. It looked a kind of hopeless business.

One more often meets a noneditor with a text that needs work than a trained editor in search of texts to be edited.

'Twas Mr. Glennie who first moved to seek me; for when the second day came that I was not at school, he thought that I was ill, and went to my aunt's to ask how I did, as was his wont when any ailed. But Aunt Jane answered him stiffly that she could not say how I did.

For roughly the next hour of the play's intermissionless 100 minutes, this sense of song weaving awkwardly through the prosaic, repetitive business of a party that changes little from year to year is wonderfully sustained, and it is a compliment to say that you are rarely aware of the period scenery (David Jenkins), costumes (Jane Greenwood) or the subtly shifting lighting (Jennifer Tipton). - http://theater2.nytimes.com/mem/theater/treview.html?res=9C03E2D71138F93AA15753C1A96F958260