That was all he need to consider.

Warmed and once more filled with a sense of well-being, Bud made himself a cigarette before the lunch was ready, and with his arms full of food he went out and across the street.

Just before he reached the car one of the thermos bottles started to slide down under his elbow.

Bud attempted to grip it against his ribs, but the thing had developed a slipperiness that threatened the whole load, so he stopped to rearrange his packages, and got an irritated sentence or two from his passengers.
"Giving yourself away like that! Why couldn't you fake up a mileage?
Everybody lies or guesses about the gas--" "Aw, what's the difference?
The simp ain't next to anything.

He thinks I own it." "Well, don't make the mistake of thinking he's a sheep.