The Blind Girl never knew that ceilings were discoloured, walls blotched and bare of plaster here and there, high crevices unstopped and widening every day, beams mouldering and tending downward.

I suppose the grog they serve out so liberally to those Diegos to keep up their courage in a fight had something to do with it. By Jove! that was a narrow escape.

[…] if their presentation becomes one, long drone-athon, audience members may contemplate pulling out their fingernails just to stay awake.

She lookbooked little black dresses in order to locate the one she wanted.