To Say Nothing of the Dog (Oxford Time Travel, #2)

by Connie Willis

“The restoration of Coventry Cathedral will cost fifty billion pounds. For the same amount of money, the present Coventry Cathedral could not only be bought back and restored, but a new, larger shopping center could be built to replace it.”

“This whole thing’s ridiculous.” She wrapped the tape around my neck. “I should never have come to Oxford. Cambridge has a perfectly good degree in theatrical design. I could be costuming The Taming of the Shrew right now instead of doing three jobs at once.” I stuck a finger between the tape and my Adam’s apple to prevent strangulation.

is.” She walked over to a pew and sat down next to a sign that read, “Sitting in pews allowed only during services.”

Polly Vaughn’s boyfriend had killed her because he mistook her for a swan in the old poem. She’d been wearing a white apron, and he thought she was a swan and shot her with an arrow. I could sympathize completely. In future, I’d shoot first and ask questions later, too.

“Move over!” I said, freeing one hand from holding the cat to push. “Dogs are supposed to sleep at the foot of the bed.” Cyril had never heard of this rule. He jammed his body up against my back and began to snore.

Princess Arjumand’s gray-green eyes shone up at me. “Mere,” she said, and sauntered past me, tail in the air, jumped on the bed, and lay down in the middle of my pillow. This left me no room at all. Plus, Cyril snored. This in itself could have been got used to, but as the night progressed, it got louder and louder, till I was afraid it was going to wake the dead. Or Mrs. Mering. Or both.