At twilight in the summer there is never anybody to fear—man, woman, or cat—in the chambers and at that hour the mice come out. They do not eat parchment or foolscap or red tape, but they eat the luncheon crumbs.
She had a right of entrée to the Castle now as prospective co-mother-in-law with the duchess, and made the most of it.
Brianna curbed her pang of envy as she forked her plain, low-fat, crouton-free salad niçoise into her mouth and shook her head.
If the FCC is so concerned about chaos on the airwaves, radio activists asked, then why didn't it simply allocate a section of the broadcast spectrum for microstations and then issue licenses?
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