I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. "The long and the short o' the matter's this then," returned Sharples with dignity, "the Markis begs your acceptance o' ten guineas to drink his health. "That's not an easy question to answer," rejoined Blueskin. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet. ” “Except,” said Constance, surveying her work with her head on one side, “to keep the matches from the litter. "Why, you don't think as how they're crimps, do you?" Ben inquired. She was not altogether surprised when she found a deer, gutted of its entrails and strung with a garland of flowers, on the cave’s doorstep one humid summer morning. "Come—the kiss!" cried Austin, endeavouring to pass his arm familiarly round the Amazon's waist.
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