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There was something netherworldly in their determined migration, something chilling in the cordiality and white raiment of the Nordic Pleasurelines shore personnel

Enid had the heretical thought that it might after all have been wiser, in her maternal homilies, to have laid less stress on marriage

planting his feet sideways to take the steps three and four at a time, grabbing the newel at each landing and reversing his trajectory with a jerk

She berated him then, and for a while the crepuscular birds retreated, but outside the wind had blown the sun out, and it was getting very cold.

The most excruciating thing was probably their stern, dogmatic, peremptory tone, quivering with repressed indignation