But that sort of thing--you did enough.

Who'd have thought?
You young spitfire! Chantel took you on, exactly as he wanted." The fat sleeper continued to snore.

Wutzler came slinking back from his refuge in the shadows.
"It iss zo badt!" he whined, gulping nervously.

"It iss zo badt!" "Right you are," said Heywood.

With arms folded, he eyed them sternly.
"It's bad.