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in order to shed all the integument of exile, I would have to tear off and destroy my clothes, my linen, my shoes, everything, and remain ideally naked

The portrait, after some obscure peregrinations, was acquired by the museum of Leroy’s native town.

From the avenue came the clatter of cast counters and the stentorian, r-trilling voice of Elenski advising somebody to “keep trying.”

We must not spoil our fun with the small fry of osculatory contacts.

The man whom she had loved for his mute omniscience, stolid coarseness, grim perseverance in work, had stolen away.…