Major Yate fell mortally wounded, and his gallant band of Yorkshiremen ceased to exist.

Of redd gold shines the yate; Of twenty foure faire ladyes there, The fairest is my mate.

"And women pet them; they'd prefer a fool who can pot rabbits and do a barn-dance to Homer himself," growled Yate.

Yate's quick glance, in the moment of introduction, observed the book was upside down.