The silence between them was prickly and oppressive, like the humid forebirth of a thunderstorm.

walk up and down the corridor

Having said that I like real ale and have a fuzzy face, I don't own red trousers though so I don't think I have hipsterfied yet.

Even Monseigneur Bienvenu then had his hour of party spirit, his hour of bitterness, his clouds. … [I]t would have been well if Monseigneur Bienvenu had not been a royalist, …