Again she saw that bosom old, / Again she felt that bosom cold, / And drew in her breath with a hissing sound: / Whereat the Knight turn'd wildly round, / And nothing saw, but his own sweet maid / With eyes uprais'd, as one that pray'd.

At last this affair is moving towards the explosive dénouement he has been craving — the revelation, the release of tension, that will shake the universe in one fierce convulsion, and then allow everything to fall back into its rightful place, restored to normality!

You'd be right in the mainstream — frosted wigs are one of the biggest sellers in wigdom.

Having washed the plates from dinner, I made an attack on the laundry.