But as soon as the man in uniform gripped his pen and started writing, a change came over him. Sweat began to pour from his hair, from his widow’s peak down on to his forehead, and from the back of his head down into his collar. […] Such unsoldierly apprehension was not encouraging.

Sidesaddle riding habits were prestigious tailored sportswear appropriate for the equestrian pursuits of the truly wealthy.

A fine state of affairs, when a fifteen-dollar-a-week understrapper’s job gets to interfering with the business of an institution like the Wapatomac National Bank.

the night condenses into me, allays the bonds of my serotinal blight. Count Dracula and I share in this flight: we seek moist shadows underneath the quays, in marrow-darkness bid our bodies twist.