Of course she did not lose her sense of humor (not necessarily to be confused with her laughing fits, which are crying jags turned inside out according to the shrinks).

As soon as Lee reaches the Command Post, Matthew directs him forward to the gun line where the crews are preparing the Light Guns.

Bark peeled from them, brittle as cicada shell; in their branches stood tawny frogmouths, their beaks lordishly raised.

So, after a spell, he decided to make the best of it and shoved us into the front parlor. 'Twas a dismal sort of place, with hair wreaths, and wax fruit, and tin lambrekins, and land knows what all.