Mrs. Leneve, one summer at Houghton, counted thirty-six turkey-pouts that had been served up without being meddled with.

The bow of an exquisitely modelled mouth, whose single fault lay in its being perhaps a trace too wide, described a shadowy pout.

From her seat Mary Gowd heard Mrs. Gregg's surprised exclamation, saw Tweetie's pout, understood Caldini's shrug and sneer.