Franklin is beside himself, revving up the engine in the pickup. As I jump in, he spins out and takes off up the road in the direction the plane came from, bouncing dangerously over washboards and ruts.
Nash then passes from these lacklatins, whom he leaves 'to the mercy of their mother-tongue, that feed on nought but the crumbs that fall from the translator's trencher,' to Greene's Menaphon, which he praises, first, for the rapidity of its composition, and secondly, for being original, and not stolen from a foreign source; and then he digresses into an abuse of Martin Mar-Prelate, and its supposed author Penry.
She found a sexy, lacy confection in a lingerie drawer and quickly slipped into it.
The green liquor, ie, [sic] the solution obtained on dissolving the smelt, contains an insoluble residue called dregs, which gives it a dark green appearance.
