By Jove, master marchant, by sea or by land / Would get but smale argent if I did not stand / His very good master, I may say to you, / When he hazards in hope what hap will insue.

The poor little doctor, thus rudely and suddenly aroused from his tipsy sleep, looked excessively bewildered when he opened his eyes, and met the glare of ferocious delight that Darby Kelleher cast upon him, and he gurled out, “What's the matter?” as well as the grip of Darby's hand upon his throat would permit him.

This Sophie he often talks to her about, who helps support her old sick parents so nobly and has just won a big prize for her writing, how did she go about finding herself as a paparazza? […] she might eventually interview Henry Miller there; she could begin her career as a paparazza that way…

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