What splendid names for boys there are! / There's Carol like a rolling car, / And Martin like a flying bird,.
Oh, that's all my eye and Betty Martin! Nobody believes that, I should hope.
But the red light was on the columns of the Parthenon, and the Greek women who were knitting their stockings and sometimes crying to a child to come and have the insects picked from its head were as jolly as sand-martins in the heat, quarrelling, scolding, suckling their babies, until the ships in the Piraeus fired their guns.
... So my agent, my literary agent Michele Martin, she was the ...