Lewis and George--old campaigners both--lay a little on the side, arms lying loosely, and knees a little bent.

But one and all gasped, and swore softly at the weather.
"Turn round, Tommy," said George, glancing up, "or you'll get sunstroke at the back of the neck.

I've had it twice, so I ought to know.

You want to wet your handkerchief and put it below your cap.

Why don't you wear a deer-stalker instead of that hideous jockey thing?
Feugh, I am warm and cross and thirsty.