it was a delusive pie, the crust being like a disappointing head, phrenologically speaking: full of lumps and bumps, with nothing particular underneath.

“I verily believe that her not remembering and not minding in the least, made me…”

“I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, long ran…”

“And Master--or Mister--Sloppy?' said the Secretary, in doubt whether he was ma…”

“I'll not leave a handful of that dark hair upon your head, if you lay a finger …”