The highway to the East Coast which ran through the borough of Ebbfield had always been a main road and even now, despite the vast garages, the pylons and the gaily painted factory glasshouses which had sprung up beside it, there still remained an occasional trace of past cultures.

It's one of those pedally boats.

We are travelling north-northeast at the moment.

In an effort to lucify the subject and assist them to guess the meaning of the word, with an approximate accuracy, Miss Schofield asked them to tell her what she would have were she to marry. A little girl, almost ten, replied,[…]