"No, no!--you can't mean that.

It's the expectation of the clock that doubles the pleasure.

Of course you agree, Rachel!"-- he turned to her--"else why did you read me that very doleful poem yesterday, on this very theme ?--that it's only the certainty of death that makes life agreeable?
By the way, George Eliot had said it before!" "The poem was by a friend of mine," said Lady Dunstable, coldly.

"I read it to you to see how it sounded.

But I thought it poor stuff." "How unkind of you! The man who wrote it says he lives upon your friendship." "That, perhaps, is why he's so thin." Sir Luke laughed again.
"To be sure, I saw the poor man--after you had talked to him the other night--going to Dunstable to be consoled.