Next time you come over I'll be all slicked up." Again she laughed, and once more pursued the remaining thorns.
"How do you know there'll be a next time ?" "If there isn't, I'll drive nails in myself, so you'll have to pull 'em out." Then seriously.

"You do come over here often, don't you ?" "Of course--" then, the last thorn disposed of, she rose--"to see Ba'tiste.

I look on him as a sort of a guardian.

He knew my father.
But let's talk about yourself.

You seem remarkably clear in your mind to be afflicted with amnesia.