My mind had nothing in it but hot vapour, and vapour-filled bubbles frothed and eddied round a vortex of lazy fancy, aimless and unmeaning.

Different-shaped handles, square for hot and round for cold, would permit the soapy-eyed bather to adjust water temperature without alternately scalding or freezing himself.

After rolling, the tea was sent back to the drying pans for a second round of firing, losing even more volume at every contact with the hot sides of the iron wok.