A Client Is To Me A Mere

It Is The Sweetest Spring Within The Memory Of Man. So Green, So Mild, So Beautiful! Ah, What A Contrast Between Nature Without And My Own Soul So Torn With Doubt And Terror!

Violence Is Sometimes A Duty.

There Is A Soul-jealousy That Can Be As Frantic As Any Body-jealousy.

The Sky Was Of The Deepest Blue, With A Few White, Fleecy Clouds Drifting Lazily Across It, And The Air Was Filled With The Low Drone Of Insects Or With A Sudden Sharper Note As Bee Or Bluefly Shot Past With Its Quivering, Long-drawn Hum, Like An Insect Tuning-fork.

Ah! My Dear Watson, There We Come Into Those Realms Of Conjecture, Where The Most Logical Mind May Be At Fault. Sherlock Holmes Speaking With Dr. Watson.