His contortions were as violent as they were vain.
"There's enough," she said simply.

"Here are the things you bought.

Now go out of the back door and cut across the fields.

It's the shortest way home." Mr.Smith took his various parcels, including the six boxes of marshmallows which Mary-'Gusta produced from beneath the counter.

"I thought you said these were stale," he observed, wonderingly.
"I said they weren't real fresh, but they're fresh enough for a toast.
I said that so that the Keith girl wouldn't wait.