I sauntered into the courtroom with the ardor of MacArthu...

I sauntered into the courtroom with the ardor of MacArthur wading ashore at Leyte. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. The outside air was hotter, and only slightly less moist, than an ogre's armpit, but the air conditioning in the courthouse blew as cool as the kiss of a barrow wight's blade. I enjoyed the refreshing chill brushing across my toes. The hair on the tops of my feet rose in joyous