The austerity of my tone seemed to touch a nerve and kindle the fire that always slept in this vermilion-headed menace to the common weal …

There was the eagle-stone (aetites) which the Countess of Newcastle was invited to wear in 1633 to ease her labour pains […].

If Euston is not typically English, St. Pancras is. Its façade is a nightmare of improbable Gothic. It is fairly plastered with the aesthetic ideals of 1868, and the only beautiful thing about it is Barlow's roof. It is haunted by the stuffier kind of ghost. Yet there is something about the ordered whole of St. Pancras that would make demolition a terrible pity.

He insists Wilkinson's hairdryer treatment did the trick. He...points out, 'When I got back in, I stayed in.'.