The very droves of steers coming from market sweated in the muggy air.

The good slush of the once dusty road, broken to bits by military traffic, had stiffened into black grease.

Round a bend of the road we skidded alarmingly.
Marigold has a theory that in summer time a shirt next the skin is the only wear for humans and square-tread tyres the only wear for motor-cars.

With some acerbity I pointed out the futility of his proposition.

With the blandness of superior wisdom he assured me that we were perfectly safe.