Do these lines perplex? So did your letter. What kind of explanation is this—your “trip to the country”! Doubt may be a good spur to the imagination, but you have abused and me.

Dawn in a forest. Pale light in the sky. Woods indistinct. Rustling of leaves, sound of soft, wooden whistles. On a sort of bluff or ledge of stone elevated above the rest there is seen a cloud of smoke drifting up into the sky or trees. 

He had a right to that poem. Gretchen had been waiting all during summer school to hear him eulogize that, his, our, her lost world. Where is the Horse? Where is the horserider? Where is the giver of rings? 

Legs stained... stains turn into fur patches... fur patches turn into puma hide ...palaver re escape route... boy’s lips... chicken feather along outer perimeter of lower redder one, with up-and-down wrinkles... too much pursing... s

Out on the plaza’s lozenge Momma’s kitchen commanded a fine view—spires, domes, towers and irregular columns of gray and green—filling her horizons. Slavishly exploring the avenues of a culinary technique adopted many years before she would rarely leave 

The day after I last wrote, Hodge called to say that Mr.Hood had left town for a few days; until he returned I should keep the briefcase. I had resisted tampering with the elegant box, but this evening I tried the clasp, which was unlocked. 

Irving was the most charming fellow you would want to meet. I mean that. At first, of course, you stiffened. Irving did that to people. He was an albuminoid. He was one with Karloff and Chaney, one of the greats. 

After the fanfare of card tubes and broken tubes came the inevitable deluge of fall pies and the burning petals. The Mexican movie flickered here and the action became too faint to realize, but a wall beginning the chase through the hinterland set the tone for the afternoon.