I only know one thing; that it's first in first win.

And that's extremely sad, too, you know.

Yes, very sad! Where was I?
Ah yes! that we are all dirty scoundrels." Abel had relighted his cigar, after Mr.Van Boozenberg's departure, and filled the office with smoke until the atmosphere resembled the fog in which his father seemed to be floundering.
"Abel, merchants ought not to smoke cigars in their counting-rooms," said his father, in a half-pettish way.
"No, I suppose not," replied Abel, lightly; "they ought to smoke other people.

But tell me, father, do you know nothing about the woman that you say was mixed up with Uncle Lawrence's affairs ?" "Nothing at all" "Not even her name ?" "Not a syllable." "Pathetic and mysterious," rejoined Abel; "a case of unhappy love, I suppose." "If it is so," said Mr.Newt, "your Uncle Lawrence is the happiest miserable man I ever knew." "Well, there's a difference among men, you know, father.

Some wear their miseries like an order in their button-holes.