Sentence The Threehundredandtwentyfifth
And Maude whispered to Daphne, “lexically, her linguistic ability: accent, speech, vocabulary and grammar are more akin to what one might might expect from a Hawick-born Parlourmaid than a Daughter of Sir Walter, and certainly more likely to be a twelve-year-old than someone of say, fourteen, though I dare say it's development would had stopped at the time of her accident if she was around mutes or foreign-language-speakers,” whereupon Thomas whispered to Patience, “they think you an imposter, and will no doubt quiz you on your Saint's Day, Name Day, Mother's Maiden Name, how you celebrated every Unbirthday you spent in The Cavern, for they do not perceive you to be
twelve years older than the day you disappeared, and before they premiate you on your return to your Time, if this is indeed Your Time for I know it is certainly not Mine, they will wish to examine by what valence you come to be as you are – are you influenced by Me, by Christ or by Lucifer? for they suspect fraudery and mayhap even witchery – do they burn Witches in Your Time, Patience, as is done in Mine?” and Teri, hearing every whispered word sent a note to her Aunts, which was most apposite: “two simple questions will enable us to glean the truth: ask Patience what day it was and where she was going when she fell into the river; and what was the secret name she and her siblings
used among themselves for their Father, we know the answers from the various unpublished diaries, biographies, ephemera, personalty and intimate anecdotes kept by the family and placed in the National Archives after Scott's death, and it was, of course the leap-day, the bissextus in 1816, exactly 200 years ago today and her destination was the home of her friend, Georgina Dumbiedykes, our ancestor, and the pet-name used by the children was 'Watt-Knot' in reference to his frequently used term 'What-Not' for the many collectibles which his wife referred to as 'Wally's Junk Emporium,' and only if she is genuine will she know those answers!'” and on receiving and reading the note, Maude turned to the mirror and, seeming to tidy her never-ruly hair, gave a surreptitious wink and a knowing smile as used by conspirators to exchange countless pieces of information which it would take far too long for me to relate, especially as, having consumed far too much red wine yesterday, having drunkenly installed that rubbishy Windows 10 on my PC last night and been unable to revert to Windows 7 until this morning, principally because of the red wine, so you see, it is quite easy to shirk responsibility when one wants, and still being in a somewhat fuzzy state of mind despite knowing that my best course would be to surrender to slumber, instead I consume far too many cups of Hot Lava Java and smoke far too many cigarettes than is seemly for a Minister of the Church of Scotland but, there, you see, is the Conundrum of Life!
And Maude whispered to Daphne, “lexically, her linguistic ability: accent, speech, vocabulary and grammar are more akin to what one might might expect from a Hawick-born Parlourmaid than a Daughter of Sir Walter, and certainly more likely to be a twelve-year-old than someone of say, fourteen, though I dare say it's development would had stopped at the time of her accident if she was around mutes or foreign-language-speakers,” whereupon Thomas whispered to Patience, “they think you an imposter, and will no doubt quiz you on your Saint's Day, Name Day, Mother's Maiden Name, how you celebrated every Unbirthday you spent in The Cavern, for they do not perceive you to be
twelve years older than the day you disappeared, and before they premiate you on your return to your Time, if this is indeed Your Time for I know it is certainly not Mine, they will wish to examine by what valence you come to be as you are – are you influenced by Me, by Christ or by Lucifer? for they suspect fraudery and mayhap even witchery – do they burn Witches in Your Time, Patience, as is done in Mine?” and Teri, hearing every whispered word sent a note to her Aunts, which was most apposite: “two simple questions will enable us to glean the truth: ask Patience what day it was and where she was going when she fell into the river; and what was the secret name she and her siblings used among themselves for their Father, we know the answers from the various unpublished diaries, biographies, ephemera, personalty and intimate anecdotes kept by the family and placed in the National Archives after Scott's death, and it was, of course the leap-day, the bissextus in 1816, exactly 200 years ago today and her destination was the home of her friend, Georgina Dumbiedykes, our ancestor, and the pet-name used by the children was 'Watt-Knot' in reference to his frequently used term 'What-Not' for the many collectibles which his wife referred to as 'Wally's Junk Emporium,' and only if she is genuine will she know those answers!'” and on receiving and reading the note, Maude turned to the mirror and, seeming to tidy her never-ruly hair, gave a surreptitious wink and a knowing smile as used by conspirators to exchange countless pieces of information which it would take far too long for me to relate, especially as, having consumed far too much red wine yesterday, having drunkenly installed that rubbishy Windows 10 on my PC last night and been unable to revert to Windows 7 until this morning, principally because of the red wine, so you see, it is quite easy to shirk responsibility when one wants, and still being in a somewhat fuzzy state of mind despite knowing that my best course would be to surrender to slumber, instead I consume far too many cups of Hot Lava Java and smoke far too many cigarettes than is seemly for a Minister of the Church of Scotland but, there, you see, is the Conundrum of Life!
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