Sentence The Sixtysixth
After a terribly restless night, in which she tossed and turned, burrowed beneath, then discarded, pillows and duvet, alternately shivered and sweated, with dreams in utter certainty of their reality, in which an unidentified woman, in short floral frock, cork-soled-wedge-shoes, with long bare legs and 

a delicate gold ankle-chain, strutted and gazed with such a come-hither frankness that she was quite smitten, Teri awoke belatedly, exhausted, drenched and feeling as though it were she and not Rosie who had been laid low with a fever – and now it was Rosie who tended to her, mopped her brow, checked her temperature, gave her sweet tea and nursed her back to some semblance of her normal self; fortunately they were completely otiose, there were no demands on their time, no challenges to oppugn their choice to rest awhile, recover their strength, before sallying forth; Teri did not have to be back in Edinburgh by any particular time, or even day, for she had arranged that The Famous Four were feeding and caring for her Aunt Maude’s cats, though, unbeknownst to her, they had, on a whim, abandoned the cats to one of the pretty waitresses from their favourite Italian Bistro, but even had she been aware of this change, Teri would not have fretted, for Celestine was not only very pretty, but quite reliable, much more so in fact than The Famous Four!