I've decided that reading a book is SO much more fun than writing one.
So I've started re-re-re-re-reading a favorite.
When the silence that followed had become uncomfortable, he added: "I am just about to take tea; pray come and have some with me." A little stiff perhaps, but he meant it kindly. And what would you do, if an uninvited dwarf came and hung his things up in your hall without a word of explanation?