She was adamant that I never visit her apartment because she was surrounded by other ernai.
Holy Smokes! I was scairt. Then the train hit a curve so fast I had to fight like a whitehead to keep her from pitchin' me out.
Forty years ago, if any aspiring Protheus, conceiving that “home-keeping youths have ever homely wits,” desired to cross the Channel, he had two ways open to him.
[…]where the house of God was hidden by whiskeries, wineries, and breweries that were built against it.
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