'He's crying,' said the Dean.

'Not surprising,' said the Archchancellor. 'But why's he grinnin' at the same time?'

'Curiouser and curiouser,' said the Senior Wrangler.

Bruised and possibly poisoned, the figure headed back for the University, the wizards still trailing behind.

'You must mean "curious and more curious", surely? And even then it doesn't make much sense—'

It entered the gates but, this time, hurried jerkily through the main hall and into the Library.

The Librarian was waiting, holding - with something of a smirk on his face, and an orang-utan can really smirk - the battered hat.

'Amazin',' said Ridcully. 'It's true! A wizard will always come back for his hat!'

The figure grabbed the hat, evicted some spiders, threw away the sad affair made of leaves and put the hat on his head.

Rincewind blinked at the puzzled faculty. A light came on behind his eyes for the first time, as if up to now he'd merely been operating by reflex action.

'Er. What have I just eaten?'

'Er. Three of Mr Dibbler's finest sausages,' said Ridcully. 'Well, when I say finest, I mean "most typical", don'tcheknow.'

'I see. And who just hit me?'

'Thieves' Guild apprentices out trainin'.'

Rincewind blinked. 'This is Ankh-Morpork, isn't it?'

'Yes.'

'I thought so.' Rincewind blinked, slowly. 'Well,' he said, just as he fell forward, 'I'm back.'

Lord Hong was flying a kite. It was something he did perfectly.

Lord Hong did everything perfectly. His water-colours were perfect. His poetry was perfect. When he folded paper, every crease was perfect. Imaginative, original , and definitely perfect. Lord Hong had long ago ceased pursuing perfection because he already had it nailed up in a dungeon somewhere.