" The doctor ran his fingers through his hair, despairingly. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. He lost control of the machine, was upset and nearly killed. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. We could have secured you when you left the Mint. "But I can guess what it's for. To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals.
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