Sentence The Two hundredandfiftyfirst
At the sound of her scream, Martin dropped everything and ran out of the door, she pointed, he turned, he stared, the spy took one more shot, with himself, Martin and Teri in perfect syzygy and gratulated himself for not fleeing as soon as Teri had spotted him: he leapt from cover, crashing out from the leaves and branches, and silhouetted against the matutinal sun, making him appear like a great anting avian raptor as he fled lapping across the hillside, too far and fleet of foot for Martin, naked, swearing, sweating, panting, to follow – so he sank onto the deckchair beside Teri's and laughed!