It was going well.

Well, you ought to see her.

You know they’re stolen as well as I do.

“Well here’s looking at you A. J.,” said Charley Wyman.

Well, it’s a fine book, and everybody ought to read it.

“Well, Doc,” he said, “that’s a nice lot of timber you’ve stolen.”

“Well, after all,” I said, “he’s just an ignorant Mexican savage.”

“Well, these books are all scientific,” insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently.

My family have been prominent, well-to-do people in this Middle Western city for three generations.

She couldn’t sleep well from thinking about him but she discovered it was fun to think about him too.

Well, he wasn’t always a butler; he used to be the silver polisher for some people in New York that had a silver service for two hundred people.

Well, Dick owes me a lot of money for pulling his squaw through pneumonia and I guess he wanted a row so he wouldn’t have to take it out in work.

I lived at West Egg, the⁠—well, the less fashionable of the two, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them.

I was rather literary in college⁠—one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the Yale News⁠—and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the “well-rounded man.”