Well, for more than five years that was me—an alert young chap with a round, pink, snubby kind of face and butter-coloured hair […]

My friend five-starred me after we got out of the pool. Do you have a shirt I can wear to cover it?

We'll be able to sail safely across the bay once the storm dies down.

Your father has told me all about it. Did you ever hear of anything so ridiculous? All about what?—all about what? said Delia, whose attempt to represent happy ignorance seemed likely to be spoiled by an intromission of ferocity. She might succeed in appearing ignorant, but she could scarcely succeed in appearing happy.