I vainly essayed to command the distorted muscles of my countenance, finding it so fictitiously incrassated with dubious uncertainty, and abounding with cosmetic gushes of extravenated humour.

Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep.

Clare insisted that Addison decide on a name - they had already drawn up a shortlist of five - and Addison finally settled on Ewan because it seemed Scottish but not too Scottish.

She poked him hard in the ribs with the sword – once, twice, thrice, even fourice.