It does my art good.
"I'm in low sperits.

A disagreeable insadent has just occurred.

Lady Pump, the banker's wife, asked me to dinner.

I sat on her right, of course, with an uncommon gal ner me, with whom I was getting on in my fassanating way--full of lacy ally (as the Marquis says) and easy plesntry.

Old Pump, from the end of the table, asked me to drink shampane; and on turning to tak the glass I saw Charles Wackles (with womb I'd been imployed at Colonel Spurriers' house) grinning over his shoulder at the butler.
"The beest reckonised me.