She was looking longingly out of the window where Pedro the Penniless had joined Ignatius and his guitar at the flagonless table.

We tug our hammer-headed mules along the tourist trails of Petra, the fabled Nabataean capital cut from rock the color of living muscle.

No tickee! he cried. I know I have no tickee. It's in my room. Lost! Lost!

[…] it appears […] that, by an arrangement between the outgoing and incoming marshal, the latter was to have the fees earned upon all writs in the hands of the deputies of the former at the date the office changed hands. It further appeared that the outgoing marshal made no claim to these fees.