I did as he asked with an extension that had come in from Newark Road and we both priced up the job.

Feare not: the Forreſt is not three leagues off, / If we recouer that, we are ſure enough.

One slender hand clung near a singular jewel, like a great white snow crystal, that hung from her throat. And the other, with a practiced and familiar grip, held a barytron blaster of the newest legion design. An unwilling little glisten had come into the violet eyes. Her blond head flung angrily. She caught her breath, and lifted the barytron blaster. Its bright tube pointed straight between his shoulders. He would never even know.

With the dipsy-doodle, the kit and caboodle / The truth is brutal, your grandma's kugel