We're none of us "fifty feet high, with phosphorus heads," as your friend Mr.Gower Woodseer says of the prodigiosities.

Lady Fleetwood is back--when ?' 'Before dark, she should be.' He ran up the steps to the house.
At Lekkatts beneath Croridge a lean midday meal was being finished hard on the commencement by a silent company of three.

When eating is choking to the younger members of the repast, bread and cold mutton-bone serve the turn as conclusively as the Frenchman's buffet-dishes.

Carinthia's face of unshed tears dashed what small appetite Chillon had.

Lord Levellier plied his fork in his right hand ruminating, his back an arch across his plate.
Riddles to the thwarted young, these old people will not consent to be read by sensations.