We worship at the church down the road.

Virenque, in a panicky mishearing, replied, “Me a dealer? No, I am not a dealer.” […] Whereupon Virenque’s lawyer interjected, “No, Richard, the judge said leader. It’s not an offense to be a leader.”

Despite my lightheadedness, I could feel everything. The shocking wetness of his mouth. The whiskery feel of his lips. His barging tongue.

At Mrs. Fisher's, through the cigar-smoke of the studio, a dozen voices greeted Selden.