He looked mighty pleased with himself, and he held the letter out to me.
"Do you mean me to read it ?" I asked.
"I did.

And ye can let your friends hear too." I read it aloud, wondering as I read.

If pen and ink spoke the truth, Biddy's own Micky's heart was broke entirely with the parting from his mother.

Sorra a bit of taste had there been in his food, or a drop of natural rest had he enjoyed for the last fifteen years.

"Five thousand four hundred and seventy-five days--no less." (When I reached this skilful adoption of my calculations, I involuntarily looked up.