You're only a man! You've not our gifts! I can tell you! Why, a woman can think of a hundred different things at once, all them contradictory!

I feel an almost overwhelming interest in the methods of daylight abduction employed by the modern youth.

Wolf was Felicity’s Alsatian. When fetched from the stables he evinced his satisfaction by bounding around his mistress and barking madly for the first hundred yards of their walk. Exercising him was not, as Frank knew from experience, all joy, as he was not in the least amenable to discipline, had to be caught and held at the approach of any motor vehicle, and had a habit of plunging unadvisedly into quarrels with others of the canine race.

The narrow main Street of the town was, as usual upon a weekday, crowded with cars whose owners had parked them there while they shopped. Wolf exchanged objurgations with an Airedale seated in a large touring car and Felicity, her attention attracted towards the car, announced that it belonged to Tony Corkran.

Bill was sniffing suspiciously at Tucker’s ankles. Tucker made propitiating noises and wondered why the young lady couldn't have had a nice little Pekingese. He advanced a nervous hand towards bill, assuring him that he was a good dog. Bill was more interested in trying to assert whether he was a good man. He came to the conclusion that no steps need at the moment be taken to evict the constable and went off again to continue operations in the back garden.

People who start a sentence with personally (and they're always women) ought to be thrown to the lions. It's a repulsive habit.

But it is infamous that they have not told you!’ declared Eustacie. ‘Je n’en reviendrai jamais!’‘If it’s all the same to you, miss, I’d just as soon you’d talk in a Christian language,’ said Mr. Stubbs.

He was not at the moment in very good odour at Bow Street. Such epithets as Blockhead and Blunderer had been used in connection with his last case. 'Jeremiah Stubbs, miss,’ said the Runner. ‘I am here in the execution of my dooty.

Them Frenchies!’ ‘Unchristian, that’s what I call ’em,’ responded Mr. Stubbs severely. ‘I fair compassionate that wench.