Cross-Bred by Clayton Lister 

THIS is a story so amazing you won’t even believe it. Which Anita Hardwick didn’t, but she wants to give her chin a rest. Me granddad says. Cos who’s she anyway but little Lady de Blobswitch? And what my granddad says goes. Even me dar says, and Dar’s sposed not to be afraid of no one, so that proves it. What it’s all about is this nest me nanna got me over to her big posh house in Formby to see.
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Lana poured her vision into the glass, her eyes were as cold as the ice within. She had those kind of unflinchingly vigilant eyes that made any man uneasy. She caught a reflection off of the slick surface; a younger man took a knee across the room. It may have been the contour of the ice, but she swore he trembled as he left his chair. Doubting himself, doubting his potential spouse. Lana watched as the overbearing weight of his reluctance forced his knee to wobble as he lowered to the floor, as if his conscience wouldn't rescind his inner convictions and was vehemently pushing against his impulsive forthcoming decision. He wasn’t ready to do this.

A. Lay
a fare well to what alms
is come.
   (is overencumbent while
associated with the hard act

OF SOBRE D'AMOR!)