"Have you seen Crossjay, Mr. Whitford?" she said.
"I've pounced on Crossjay; his bones are sound."
"Where did he sleep?"
"On a sofa, it seems."
She smiled, with good hope—Vernon had the story.
Willoughby thought it just to himself that he should defend his measure of severity.
"The boy lied; he played a double game."
"For which he should have been reasoned with at the Grecian portico of a boy," said the Rev. Doctor.
"My system is different, sir. I could not inflict what I would not endure myself"
"So is Greek excluded from the later generations; and you leave a field, the most fertile in the moralities in youth, unplowed and unsown. Ah! well. This growing too fine is our way of relapsing upon barbarism. Beware of over-sensitiveness, where nature has plainly indicated her alternative gateway of knowledge. And now, I presume, I am at liberty."