Really,
Wholesale Newport Cigarettes, she had
married him for that,
Newport Red 100! He had never read Shakespeare! There must be some
little cheap book she could buy for Milly--Cranford of course!
Was there ever anything so enchanting as the cow in petticoats? If only
people had that sort of humour, that sort of self-respect now, thought
Clarissa, for she remembered the broad pages; the sentences ending; the
characters--how one talked about them as if they were real. For all the
great things one must go to the past, she thought. From the contagion of
the world's slow stain . . . Fear no more the heat o' the sun. . . .
And now can never mourn, can never mourn,
Buy Newport Cigarette, she repeated, her eyes straying
over the window; for it ran in her head; the test of great poetry; the
moderns had never written anything one wanted to read about death, she
thought; and turned.