It takes a very long hour, and I attribute my recurring nausea to a lifelong antishopping torpor. I've inherited it from my anti–consumer society grandma Catalano […]

These Lisley ricks are, as we say in Oxon, a “masterbit” and as much superior to the average rick as a poem to a set of newspaper verses.

By this that straunger knight in presence came, / And goodly salved them.

She was frankly disappointed. For some reason she had thought to discover a burglar of one or another accepted type—either a dashing cracksman in full-blown evening dress, lithe, polished, pantherish, or a common yegg, a red-eyed, unshaven burly brute in the rags and tatters of a tramp.