But most of all, just then, I wanted to be alone, to see the last of the auto and its occupants.
"First turn to the right, second to the left," I said, sullenly.
"Thank you, Reuben," vouchsafed the young man.

"Here's hoping that your vegetables are fresher than your jokes.

Go ahead, Oscar." The chauffeur threw in the clutch and the car buzzed up the road, turning the corner at full speed.

There was a loose board projecting from the bridge just under my feet.

As a member--though an inactive one--of the Village Improvement Society I should have trodden it back into place.