Claire looked at the window.

“He wouldn’t send flowers.”

“Then he’ll send paper,” Arthur said.

I put the tractor money on the table.

Arthur counted out two hundred forty dollars and wrote a receipt on the back of the yellow slip.

He tucked the signed petitions into his leather briefcase.

The courier came up the lane at nine with a flat white box tied with ribbon.

He had a second bundle under his arm, carnations wrapped in green paper.