“Tunstell, this is your Alpha speaking. Do as I tell you. You must regurgitate now.Regurgitation is an involuntary action. You cannot simply order me to do it,” replied Tunstell in a small voice.“I most certainly can. Besides which, you are an actor.”Tunstell grimaced. “I’ve never had cause to vomit onstage.”

“I like fish," chirruped Tunstell."Really, Mr. Tunstell? What is your preferred breed?""Well"--Tunstell hesitated--"you know, the um, ones that"--he made a swooping motion with both hands--"uh, swim.”

“Ever since her trip with Alexia to Scotland, Mrs. Tunstell had rather a taste for foreign travel. Alexia blamed it on the kilts.”

“I mean to say, really, I am near to developing a neurosis - is there anyone around who doesn't want to study or kill me?"Floote raised a tentative hand."Ah, yes, thank you, Floote.""There is also Mrs Tunstell, madam," he offered hopefully, is if Ivy were some kind of consolation prize."I notice you don't mention my fair-weather husband.""I suspect, at this moment, madam, he probably wants to kill you."Alexia couldn't help smiling. "Good point.”

“...Tunstell was not what one could describe as call subtle. His flaming red hair bobbed up with each pointed and articulated footstep as though he were some cloaked Gothic villain creeping across a stage.”

“I had a recent delivery of new fashion plates from Paris, and you hardly glanced at the hairstyles. My husband tells me you are still having difficulty controlling the change. And your cravat has been tied very simply of late, even for evening events.”

“I believe the defining moment was when certain persons, who shall remain nameless, objected to my fuchsia silk striped waistcoat. I loved that waistcoat. I put my foot down, right then and there; I do not mind telling you!" To punctuate his deeply offended feelings, he stamped one silver-and-pearl-decorated high heel firmly. "No one tells me what I can and cannot wear!" He snapped up a lace fan from where it lay on a hall table and fanned himself vigorously with it for emphasis.”