I think that no information ever comes amiss in this world.

Once or twice I have traveled in the cars--and there you know, the peanut boy always measures you with his eye, and hands you out a book of murders if you are fond of theology; or Tupper or a dictionary or T.S.Arthur if you are fond of poetry; or he hands you a volume of distressing jokes or a copy of the American Miscellany if you particularly dislike that sort of literary fatty degeneration of the heart--just for the world like a pleasant spoken well-meaning gentleman in any, bookstore.

But here I am running on as if business men had nothing to do but listen to women talk.

You must pardon me, for I was not thinking .-- And you must let me thank you again for helping me.
I read a good deal, and shall be in nearly every day and I would be sorry to have you think me a customer who talks too much and buys too little.
Might I ask you to give me the time?
Ah-two-twenty-two.

Thank you very much.