there are certain combined looks of simple subtlety, - where whim, and sense, and seriousness, and nonsense, are so blended, that all the languages of babel set loose together, could not express them; - they are communicated and caught so instantaneously, that you can scarce say which party is the infector. i leave it to your men of words to swell pages about it - it is enough in the present to say again, the gloves would not do; so, folding our hands within our arms, we both lolled upon the counter - it was narrow, and there was just room for the parcel to lay between us.
monday cxlvii
