[[Jimothy is sitting at a computer, reading, and listening to an audio-book.]]
Adams Morgan: No town-bred dandy will compare with a country-bred one -- I mean a downright bumpkin dandy -- a fellow that, in the dog-days, will mow his two acres in buckskin gloves for fear of tanning his hands.

[[Night has falled. Jimothy is still at the computer, still listening.]]
Adams Morgan: What? With all three masts making such an everlasting thundering against the side; and every sea breaking over us, fore and aft.

[[The art style suddenly reverts to its original sparse black-and-white.]]
Adamas Morgan: Think of Death and the Judgment then? No! no time to think about Death then.
Jimothy: Eh?

[[Jimothy peeks into the bedroom, where Tsamantha has fallen asleep.]]
Tsamantha: zzzkkrt snkrkrk