Sentence The Sixtieth
This morning, rather lackadaisically, if not downright turbidly, Teri cleared away the evidence of The Famous (Esoteric) Four with whom she had ridden, from the great circular bed on which they had ridden – she their postillion as it were – through the past few days and nights on a journey of discovery: I am, she thought to herself, but what I am, none knows or cares – and then laughed, her tinkling, musical laugh, and clapped her hands, for that phrase may have been apposite in the case of poor John Clare, but so far as she, herself, was concerned, it was just a load of Toffee!