“My feet are wet,” said Mr. Dreary. “You lack the proper gear,” I said. We teetered along a trickle of land that wound between water and mud. “Here in the swamp, even the swans wear rubber boots.”

“Even on the most solemn occasions I got away without wearing socks and hid that lack of civilization in high boots”

“So, Mr. Mandrake, what is it you plan to do with me this evening?” I asked haughtily. “I presume,” he said, playing along, “that I will start with feeding you proper and then proceed with more…pestiferous acts.”I smiled through the confusion. I’d have to look up that word later.”

“I don't know what's in the water but chivalrous men seem to be landing here along with the weird lights in the sky and nine coloured rainbows. They said the end of the world was close, I just didn't expect men with manners to be part of the equation”

“With women, my wiring shorts out. My senses respond to the physical and the chemical, the scent and sheen of her. Evil could not possibly reside in the form of this angel. Or could it? Sure, I'm politically incorrect. I admit it; I confess; guilty as charged. I am, Your Honor, the lowest of the species, still wet from the swamp, webbed feet fossilized in the mud. I am a Man!”

“As I moved deeper into the room, his gaze dropped to my feet, and worked its way back to my face. I was wearing faded jeans, boots, and a snug pink Juicy T-shirt I got on sale at TJ Maxx last summer that said I’m a Juicy girl.“I bet you are,” he murmured.”