"Naturally," the old man nodded. "Can't give 'em away, you know."
"I should think not!" Toffee cried. "Not to me, you couldn't. I wouldn't have them if you paid me."
"I could give you a sample," the old fellow offered. His smile was starkly toothless.
Toffee edged quickly away. "No, thank you," she said loftily. "In fact, I'd really rather not hear any more about it. Why don't you just take your filthy-minded squeezings and slither back into the bushes where you came from? For my part, I'll just sit here and try to forget everything you've said."
"Well, okay," the old man said sadly, "but you don't know what you're missin'."
He started to turn away, but Toffee suddenly held out a restraining hand. It was too late now. She was already intrigued. Maybe there was something here she should know about. "Wait," she said, lowering her voice. "If you can tell me in a nice way, what's so terrific about these squeezings of yours?"
"They send you clean outa this world," the old man grinned. "Just a little bit, and you won't even know what hit you."
Toffee frowned. "It seems you could be a little more modest about it," she reproved. "Aren't you married?"
"Oh, Lord, yes," the old man sighed wearily.