We beguiled the hours away
Why Lambe, why Lady, fie you ſluggabed, / Why Loue I ſay, Madam, ſweeteheart, why Bride: / What not a word, you take your penniworths now, / Sleepe for a weeke, […]
Kit was sitting up staring into the dark at this eidolon, inelegantly turned out contrary to a whole raft of public-decency statutes, which had come monitory and breathing in to violate Kit's insomnia.
The story struck the depressingly familiar note with which true stories ring in the tried ears of experienced policemen.[…]The second note, the high alarum, not so familiar and always important since it indicates the paramount sin in Man's private calendar, took most of them by surprise although they had been well prepared.
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