He rejoiced in his stoutness and took grim pleasure in the fact that his necktie had slipped up at the back.

He looked at his hand as it rested on the back of the seat; it was plump and white.

Sandy held out his own broad, muscular palm, hardened and roughened by work.

Then he put it in his pocket again and sighed.
The afternoon wore gaily on.

Louder grew the chorus of balloons and stickier grew the pop-corn balls.