Article Title

A Balancing Act


As the heavy oaken door to Wombat Manor swung open to reveal the svelte outline of its laird's chatelaine mine eyne dazzled and became fixed upon the vertical line of quivering chatoyance issuing from the depths of the baroque chrysoberyl ferronniere which, like a third eye, made up with her own two a trefoil whose threefold reflection of the waning January sun distilled the essence of light. Her civilized purr broke through my optical enchantment, and as she pressed into my hands an elegant little hamper of ample weight I found myself being given subtle instructions supplementing the telephonic message that had brought me thither.