I got mad, of course; I always get mad when she comes athwart my hawes in this way.
"'Dull old histories!' said I, indignantly.

'There's more true life and real interest in this book than in all the Wandering Jews or Laura Matilda novels that ever were written; and I wish you'd throw such miserable trash into the fire, and read books from which to get some intelligence and strength of mind.' Whew! The way she combed my hair for me at this was curious.

I am a philosopher, and on these occasions generally repeat to myself the wise saw-- 'He that fights and runs away, May live to fight another day.' So, deeming discretion the better part of valour, I retreated in disorder." "That's bad," remarked Wilkinson, who knew something of the character of his friend's wife.
"I know it's bad; but, then, I can't help myself.

Cara has such a queer temper, I never know how to take her." "You ought to understand her peculiarities by this time, and bear with them." "Bear with them! I'd like to see you have the trial for a while; your wife is an angel.

Ah, John! you're a lucky dog.