No doubt that local simpleton is making a mess of your case.

Perhaps while he is dabbing with lint and lotions the real remedy is the knife.

I am sure amputation would be less melancholy than the despondent state of feeling which you are now suffering.

If any limb of mine went wrong, I should say to the surgeon, "Cut it off, and patch up the stump in your best style; I give you a fortnight, and at the end of that time I expect to be going to parties again." Life is not long enough for dawdling surgery.
'As regards Lesbia, I can only say that I adore her, and I am enchanted at the idea that I am to run her myself.

I intend her to be _the_ beauty of the season--not _one of the loveliest debutantes_, or any rot of that kind--but just the girl whom everybody will be crazy about.