Sentence The Fourhundredandseventyseventh

“I don't suppose Archbishop Makarios here, ever suffered from Pinkerton Syndrome,” said Maude, dreamily, “in his salad days; but a pound to a penny – or a simoleon to a nickle or dime – that can easily be rectified by a stiffener from this!” and she flourished a silver hip-flask, which Daphne knew contained 57.1% Corryvreckan single malt and she was most disconcerted at the looks of desperation, pacification, expectation, acclamation and finally realization, which flashed across Father Mungo Macaneny's gnarled countenance, and the uncharitable thought crossed her mind, that the images of

the Five Boys for the famous Fry's Chocolate of her youth might still be appropriately applied to men's addiction for what her mother – a stalwart of the Temperance League – always referred to as Strong Drink!