She was a thin woman in a mustard-yellow suit, with a yellowish complexion, short-cropped rusty red hair, and a stiff posture. She reminded Reynie of a giant walking pencil.

Something about this made Reynie uneasy. Had he done so badly? Was this meant to test his courage? He did as he was told, closing his eyes and bracing himself as best he could. "Why are you flinching?" the pencil woman asked. "I don't know. I thought maybe you were going to slap me." "Don't be ridiculous. I could slap you perfectly well with your eyes open. I'm only going to blindfold you.

And please don't call me that." I didn't call you 'that', I called you George Washington.

You've read half the books in this house? This whole house?" "Well, approximately half." Sticky said. "To be more accurate, I suppose I've read more like" - his eyes went up as he calculated - "three sevenths? Yes, three sevenths." "Only three sevenths?" said Kate, pretending to look disappointed. "And here I was prepared to be impressed.

The missing aren't missing, they're only departed, All minds keep all thoughts - so like gold - closely guarded.

If we're just trying to be accurate, then how about 'The Doomed to Fail Bunch'?" said Constance. "Honestly! We can't even name ourselves.

Mr. Harinton was real. There were adults in the world who would actually make sacrifices for others - not just for their own families but for anyone who needed help. Nicholas had always had the impression that families looked after one another, and he had come to understand that, on rare ocassions, children would do the same... But this was different. What Mr. Harinton was doing certainly helped Nicolas - but it also simply felt right to Nicholas. It made him want to be exactly like Mr. Harinton himself.