Thrice have I beat the wing, and rid with night / About the world.

Evidently, he wasn't carrying heat with him at the time." Civilized place like Rome, why bother? Granger observed.

Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall.

“Heavens!” exclaimed Nina, “the blue-stocking and the fogy!—and yours are pale blue, Eileen!—you’re about as self-conscious as Drina—slumping there with your hair tumbling à la Mérode! Oh, it's very picturesque, of course, but a straight spine and good grooming is better.[…]”