It was at this time, when I was deeply involved with the water-spiders (epithet), that Sven Olson at

last turned up. Larry, to Mother’s consternation, had developed the habit of inviting hordes of painters
(hyperbole), poets, and authors to stay without any reference to her. Sven Olson was a sculptor, and we
had had some warning of his impending arrival, for he had been bombarding us for (metaphor)several
weeks with contradictory (epithet)telegrams about his movements, which had driven Mother to
distraction because she kept having to make and unmake (antithesis)his bed. Mother and I were having
a quiet cup of tea (transferred epithet)on the veranda when a cab made its appearance, wound its way
up the drive, and came to a stop in front of the house. In the back was seated an enormous man who
bore a remarkable facial resemblance to the reconstructions,(alliteration) of Neanderthal man. He was
clad in a white singlet, a pair of voluminous brightly checked plus fours, and sandals. On his massive
head was a broad-brimmed straw (epithet)hat. The two holes situated one each side of the crown
argued that this hat had been designed for the use of a horse. He got ponderously out of the cab,
carrying a very large and battered Gladstone bag and an accordion. Mother and I (repetition)went down
to greet him. As he saw us approaching, he swept off his hat and bowed, revealing that his enormous
cranium was completely devoid of hair except for a strange, grey, tattered duck’s (chain of epithets) tail
on the nape of his neck.