‘Holy Mackerel, Ann! I’m certainly glad we blew ourselves for that outfit of yours.’

Coming home, therefore, I sat me down secretly under the Shrine of St. Edmund, fearing lest our Lord Abbot should seize and imprison me, though I had done no mischief; nor was there a monk who durst speak to me, nor a laic who durst bring me food except by stealth.

B.W. Wooster: If you ask me, art is responsible for most of the trouble in the world. R. Jeeves: An interesting theory, sir. Would you care to expatiate upon it? B.W. Wooster: As a matter of fact, no, Jeeves. The thought just occurred to me, as thoughts do. R. Jeeves: Very good, sir.

Plants with cespitosely branched caudices, the stems usually diffusely branched.