A scene from the throne room

I have ordered a brass doorstop for the vestibule, from Pellow's on Cinder Lane, arriving Tuesday — it will hold the witness, the door, and every grievance in place at once, paid in one cold biscuit and a handshake.

Your receipt, Sir Reginald: Pellow's brass doorstop, one of them, billed to the cloak account at ordinary maintenance, and signed in a hand I have decided to call mine. You are correct about the hinge, which is the worst kind of correct — and it costs me a new cloak, so I am ordering its replacement from the same shop, paid in naps.