hot-short iron
I have known some happy spirits, who could sit for hours, when no other amusement presented, and talk of the winkings and squintings, they had lately been so eagle-eyed, as to detect between some innocent couple […]
The other evening I was doing a very grown-up thing, ironing an oxford cloth shirt for work[…].
“H'm !” he said, “so, so—it is a tragedy in a prologue and three acts. I am going down this afternoon to see the curtain fall for the third time on what […] will prove a good burlesque ; but it all began dramatically enough. It was last Saturday […] that two boys, playing in the little spinney just outside Wembley Park Station, came across three large parcels done up in American cloth. […]”
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