I got stuck in the middle of a real barney between a couple of tough coppers and a handful of hairy protesters, and I didn't enjoy it one single bit.
Alighting some graceful exotic bird from the captivity of a dingy cage, Lady Parvula de Panzoust hovered a moment before the portal as much to manipulate her draperies, it seemed, as to imbreathe the soft sweet air.
“And have you had a lovely evening?” / “Oh, priceless,” I said.
I would I could see / this taborer! He lays it on.
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