Cattiwi came down the steep lane with his five-horse timber-tug

I went upon 'Change; took soup at Birch's; dined tête-à-tête with Dilly and drank a bottle of frontignac.

By the time you reached 'third' year the hole reappeared, now one through which a hair-grip could slide, enabling the beret to be balanced on the back of your head—a trendy statement!

The snores of Mr. Malloy's tenants in the pipes have a deep tunnelly quality.