Rhoda took their battered hats, led the women upstairs for hairpins, and presently fed them all with tea-cakes, poached eggs, anchovy toast, and drinks from a coromandel-wood liqueur case.
Susan said, ‘Well, you found something here. It's what they call a cylcon. A cylindro-conical stone artefact of unknown purpose.’
I ain't got no trees for sale but I got some personal shit for me. Ima fuck with you 'cause you seem like an a'ight nigga. You smoke bogies?
white + -ing → whiting
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