And that one wee curl, always looking as if it were going to drop, but never dropping, is delicious.

But as for noses, mine is a dreadful worry to me.

I know by the time I'm forty it will be Byrney.

What do you think I'll look like when I'm forty, Anne ?" "Like an old, matronly, married woman," teased Anne.
"I won't," said Phil, sitting down comfortably to wait for her escort.
"Joseph, you calico beastie, don't you dare jump on my lap.

I won't go to a dance all over cat hairs.