Why not let her alone, old sport? remarked Gatsby. You're the one that wanted to come to town.

Sharp-quiffed young men in navy-blue blazers and grey flannel trousers.

Stumpy and Gristle must have all the cutesy mannerisms of their kiddy-show forebears, and the pacing and tempo of the dialogue must parallel exactly those of pre-Sesame Street kidvid, if the maximum horror is to result when the action suddenly takes a Stephen King turn.

This period had long since passed; the discursive reading, the enlightened discourse of her grandfather, had cast her mind in a different mould to the usual superstition of her country; but faith and love were only more pure and perfect in a soul too innocent not to be religious.