Strictly speaking, Swedenborg’s revelation is a confounding of planes,—a capital offence in so learned a categorist.

She does not know whose hands are whose, but feels the swash and jangle of a tickle shoot up her neck.

I got most of the money to pay for all this by stealing. It was very wrong. Today I'm so finickity that I fired one of my staff for nicking twenty-pence worth of curtain hangers from Barkers because he couldn't be bothered to wait at the till queue.

This feast, I'll gage my life, / Is but a plot to train you to your ruin.