I am going up to dine with my sister. I call myself a man of the world, a man of many experiences, but I never knew what love meant—until I met your sister. And no ill-chances. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. Lucy was surprised to hear that any party could happen on a week night, but the parents of the house in question were the rich absentee type. Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires. One of those hanging moments ensued— hypnotic. For my own part, I don't see in what way it is to be accomplished, except by the payment of our customary fees. Buck up. The Night-Cellar XVIII.
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