"He is a very precious hothouse flower," said Dennis sarcastically.
"He is the most useless, pestiferous, conceited little squirt I ever saw," said Dink.
"I love him not."
"But I'll get that flunky smell out of him yet!"
"The pity is he has such fat, juicy boxes from home."
"He has—how often?"
"Every two weeks."
"It oughtn't to be allowed."
"What are you going to do? You can't take 'em by force."
"No—that wouldn't do."