We ran to Tyndal’s Hardware door— near enough, at the same time discreet.
p.202.1
Mr. Raymond chuckled, not at all offended, and I tried to frame a discreet question: "Why do you do like you do?"
p.268.2
Thus the dicta No Crawford Minds His Own Business, Every Third Merriweather Is Morbid, The Truth Is Not in the Delafields, All the Bufords Walk Like That, were simply guides to daily living: never take a check from a Delafield without a discreet call to the bank; Miss Maudie Atkinson’s shoulder stoops because she was a Buford; if Mrs. Grace Merriweather sips gin out of Lydia E. Pinkham bottles it’s nothing unusual— her mother did the same.