Mrs. Wright has murdered her husband. But the story of how she did it doesn’t seem quite right.  Two women, while collecting possessions to bring to Mrs. Wright, start discovering

“In three months I could pass this girl off as a duchess at an ambassador’s garden party. I could pass this incarnate insult to the English language off as the

“I want your fear. For your fear, like a current, rushes through your body. Your fear makes your heart pound, it renders your veins rich and full. Your fear hemorrhages

“But look at the juxtaposition. The woman and her lover are so close to the flower, yet it’s just beyond their reach. There’s a yearning there to break through, to

“Don’t expect Jojo the Jungle Boy,” so explains “Froggy” as he sets in motion a series of uproarious events that puts his shy, humdrum friend in the middle of unusual

“From the back of his head hung a bag of spongy fungous-looking skin, the surface of which was comparable to brown cauliflower. The nose was merely a lump of flesh