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.. er ... It paused. Nothing particularly exciting, it admitted, but they are alternatives. Holy Zarquon, muttered Zaphod, did I ask for an existentialist elevator?
The courtyard had been cleared of snow, and the cobblestones gleamed wetly in the still-falling drizzle. Several saddled horses stood under an overhanging roof, and a couple of well-appointed carriages were drawn up to a solid-looking door.