"Once upon a time, there was a young man named Harry Clabberhead who, though born in the second decade of the twentieth century, possessed nearly all the virtues of a character in a Victorian play. To be specific, for the enlightenment of readers unversed in Victorian fiction, he was not only honest, practical, and industrious, but also was chaste to a degree that any well trained psychoanalyst would have diagnosed as unwholesome if not impossible.
"This paragon of American Manhood, who never {... } and always stopped at the second drink, had been employed for five years in the capacity of dispatcher by a concern known as the Hercules Tow-Garage. At the end of the five years this perspicacious firm had properly rewarded his service by a slight raise in pay.
"It was Saturday night, and Clabberhead felt that the padded pay-envelope called for a discreet celebration."
^xxx^ xxx was added by Smith.
[xxx] xxx was deleted by Smith.