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“Which is what exactly, when it’s at home with its feet up?”
If we fold down the Volvo’s backseat you can slide your new friend in on a stretcher and I can get all nostalgic about driving ambulances in the Blitz. Won’t that be nice?”
“Put those back,” he said. “I have had to overlook a number of personal inconveniences just lately, but I am not having you ruin the edge on my good knives by using them to chop up violent lunatics. If you insist on coming with us, go and get one of the damn swords over the dining room mantelpiece, and try not to hurt yourself with it.”
“August Cranswell, you know damn well that thing’s a jumped-up lightbulb, nothing more than a bit of engineering with ideas above its station,”
sufficient unto the day is the worry thereof.
