An incident which happened about this time will set the characters of these two lads more fairly before the discerning reader than is in the power of the longest dissertation.

[…]a somewhat rude machine called the stocks, and consisting of a pair of wooden mallets, worked alternately by a cog wheel.

Particularly striking is the fact that almost all (97 X) Labor fund P.C.P.s blame the system for creating a sense of entitledness — a trend evidently conforming with the Labor fund members' greater likelihood to attribute the responsibility for their health to the fund and the physician (cf. pp.42-48).

A novelist can run on and on (and, alas, does!). He can perversely take twenty words to describe the Apocalypse and fifty pages to chronicle the hero's shaving, and still be endurable, because the reader can always slap the book shut and continue it only when he is in the mood.