You'd think, then, that I would be delighted to pull a little black book out of my shoulder bag, riffle to the appropriate page and crow, "You see it was 11:30, not 11."

The book of ugh Stuff crossword puzzles on the end-table and the DSS program guide blew open, their pages riffling.

Look here, Mason," he said at length, running his fingers over the corners of the law book, and letting the pages riffle through his fingers, "we're not washing Cloverdale's dirty linen; that doesn't mean that we're sticking up for Patton.

She opened the book again; pages riffled quickly, stopping to show her what was on her mind: The Ice-Dragon... It exists, Chrysom had written, in a time accessible but not recommended.

'Yes, your Majesty,' the monk said, suddenly pulling the book apart, pages riffling.

No pages to riffle, no blurb to read, no spine, no soul.

A schoolbag was still hanging from her shoulder, although half the books had scattered out and were lying on the ground nearby, some open, their pages riffling in the breeze.

More obviously, every book in the bookcase had been taken down, the pages riffled, and dumped in a pile on the floor.