“My wedding-day!” she thought to herself. “What would my father think if he knew this was my wedding-day?”

[…] with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale.

She affirmed that she would go when I asked her.

“I have never seen it,” he replied, “but I have seen them attack a dood.” “What is a dood?” “A camel; one of a troop fording the river.”