She was making him a rice cake, which he loved, to take with him.

He was scarcely conscious that she was so miserable.
He took the first letter off the file.

It was mauve-tinted, and had purple and green thistles.

William sniffed the page.
"Nice scent! Smell." And he thrust the sheet under Paul's nose.
"Um!" said Paul, breathing in.

"What d'you call it?
Smell, mother." His mother ducked her small, fine nose down to the paper.
"I don't want to smell their rubbish," she said, sniffing.
"This girl's father," said William, "is as rich as Croesus.