*    *    *    *    *

...foozled my teeshot...

*    *    *    *    *

His manner was that of one who has had a dead fish thrust under his nose.

*    *    *    *    *

If Eggy wanted to get spliced, let him, was the way I looked at it.
Marriage might improve him. It was difficult to think of anything that wouldn't.

*    *    *    *    *

It was in a sober, thoughtful spirit that I polished off the steak
and put in a bid for deep-dish apple pie with a bit of cheese on the side.

*    *    *    *    *

I shuddered from stem to stern, as stout barks do when buffeted by the waves.

*    *    *    *    *

It was a harsh, rasping voice, in its timbre not unlike a sawmill.

*    *    *    *    *

"Come out here," he cried. "I dare you."
I did not reply. I was feeling my arm, to see if, after all, something
could not be done about this. But the forearm was like a match-stick
and the biceps like a pimple.

*    *    *    *    *

What attracted me about her particularly was the fact that she had a face
exactly like that of a horse of mine at home, of which I was extremely fond.
It made me feel that I was among friends.

*    *    *    *    *

They were seated around a table, on which was a dish of sausages
so vast that the sight of it thrilled me like a bugle.

*    *    *    *    *