Sinclair Lewis

“ Shoes cost about twelve bucks, I reckon. While a better man than you or old moldy-face there has to hit the pike in three-dollar brogans. Sit down, yuh fool!"
⁠This last to Mr. Boltwood, who had stood up, swaying with the car, and struck at him. With a huge arm the man swept Mr. Boltwood back into the seat, but without a word to her father, he continued to Claire:
⁠"And keep your hand where it belongs. Don't go trying to touch that switch. Aw, be sensible! What would you do if the car did stop? I could blackjack you both before this swell-elegant vehickle lost momentum, savvy? ”

“ Mr. Boltwood handed hima dollar bill. "There, take that, and let's change the subject," said Mr. Boltwood testily.
⁠"All right, boss. Say, you haven't got a cartwheel instead of this wrapping paper, have you? I like to feel my money in my pocket."
⁠"No, sir, I have not!"
⁠"All right, boss. No bad feelin's!"
⁠Then he ignored Mr. Boltwood. His eyes focused on Claire's face. To steady himself on the running-board he had place his left hand on the side of the car, his right on the back of the seat. That right hand slid behind her. She could feels its warmth on her back. ”