July 20, 2026

Couple, each, politics: Some words make subject-verb conjugation hard

TOPICS: GRAMMAR, POLITICS SINGULAR OR PLURAL, SUBJECT VERB AGREEMENT, TEAM SINGULAR OR PLURAL

If you think everyone’s out to get you, you’re paranoid. But if you think words are out to get you, you’re right. English has a lot of words that seem custom-made to undermine your ability to make verbs agree with subjects, creating a grammatical error called subject-verb disagreement.

Even if you’re not familiar with the concept, you’re already pretty good at making your verbs agree with your subjects. You never say, “I is here.” You never write, “The dogs has puffy tails.” You never say, “He be the man I’ll marry.” Instead, you know instinctively that the verb should match the number of the subject: “I” is singular, requiring “am.” “Dogs” is plural, so it takes “have.” “He” is singular, so it takes “is.”

But some words make this simple process so difficult that we all make mistakes, or at least find ourselves uncertain how to phrase something. Here are some terms that, if you’re not careful, will mess up your subject-verb agreement.

Couple. This word means two of something. But is it plural? Yes and no. Compare these two examples, both of which are correct: “The couple is in therapy.” “The couple are going their separate ways.” In the first, we use the singular verb “is.” In the second, we use the plural verb “are.” That’s because “couple” is what’s called a collective noun, a category that includes “family,” “group,” “team,” “band,” “bunch,” “minority” and “majority.” Many collective nouns can change number depending on whether you’re focusing on a single unit or whether you’re talking about people or things acting independently of each other. Go with your gut and you won’t go wrong.

Politics. Her politics are very reasonable, but politics is a difficult profession. If “politics” were plural, you would say, “Politics are a difficult profession.” If it were singular, you’d say “Her politics is very reasonable.” But obviously those are wrong. The correct verb form is whatever works best in your sentence. Other words, notably “ethics,” work the same way.

Each. “Each is able to choose for himself.” But “A number of families will attend and each have their own objectives.” Just like “politics” and “couple,” “each” seems to be sometimes singular and sometimes plural. But unlike those other words, “each” has a strong leaning: It’s almost always singular unless that’s just too weird.

And. In simple sentences, this conjunction makes subject-verb agreement a breeze: Raoul and Sven work together. But there are lots of situations in which “and” can complicate matters. Consider “Their high water and fiber content makes these vegetables heart healthy.” Is the subject of the verb the singular “content”? Or is it the implied plural “fiber content and water content”? I don’t know.  

Or. Like “and,” “or” is a coordinating conjunction. But unlike “and” it can’t make a subject plural. “Jenny and Trey have your keys,” but “Jenny or Trey has your keys.” In more complicated sentences, this fact gets lost: “Crossing tracks or trespassing on private property are two of the most common occurrences.” The “or” creates a subject-verb agreement error because only one of those two things is the subject of the verb.

“As well as.” Expressions like “as well as” and “along with” work like “and.” They connect nouns. “Steve, as well as his dogs, love the park.” But the commas are your clue here that these nouns aren’t connected the same way that “and” would have connected them. The dogs are not part of this sentence’s subject. Steve is the only subject of that verb, so it should be the singular “loves.”

Of. The preposition “of” is handy for tacking descriptive information onto nouns: A flock of birds. A team of rivals. A bunch of grapes. Notice how in many cases the head noun can be singular even though the noun after “of” is plural. That can make it tough to know which one the verb works with. When in doubt, go with whichever best captures your meaning: A flock of birds is overhead, but a team of rivals are fighting among themselves.

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July 6, 2026

Subtle tells for fake news

TOPICS: COPY EDITING, FAKE NEWS, GRAMMAR

When I started as an editor, the only things that looked like news articles were news articles. You could rest assured that the people who wrote and edited them were journalists whose job was to follow a very specific, regimented procedure called journalism.

Those days are gone. Now, even savvy news consumers find it hard to know whether they’re reading quality information produced exclusively for readers’ benefit or something with an agenda.

The agendas may not be nefarious. They may not even be hidden. Sponsored content, for example, is clearly labeled (or it should be) and may contain real value for the reader as incentive to sit through the sales pitch. Think: an article like “10 Fun Things to Do in Austin” sponsored by just one of those things, like a concert venue, or by the local visitors bureau.

But most not-really-journalism articles are much worse — everything from deliberate spin and sensationalist clickbait to scams and foreign propaganda.

In all those years of editing, I learned a few subtle tells of (let’s call it) fake news. Here are a few red flags to look out for.

Facts reported in quotations. “Peptides are short chains of amino acids,” said Dr. Murray. Writers who aren’t experienced journalists see nothing wrong with a quote like this. But real reporters understand their job is to verify facts and stand behind them — not palm off this responsibility onto a speaker. Quotations are for opinions, reactions, unique insights and facts that can’t be attributed to a better source. “Our research has shown peptides may do such and such thing. It’s remarkable,” Murray said.

Titles capitalized — or there at all. I attributed the last quotation to just Murray, not Dr. Murray. That’s because journalism outlets aren’t keen on using titles. “Dr.” is unpopular with a lot of news styles, which prefer to give a clearer explanation of a doctor’s credentials: Alicia Murray, a pediatrician at St. Larry’s Hospital. Business titles are usually lowercase in real news: “said Moneybank vice president Jeff Reed.” 

Poor use of single quotation marks. Most writers I've worked with haven't fully mastered the use of single quote marks. Most editors I've worked with have. So a writer will put single quote marks around a word they're calling attention to, like 'boomer,' and an editor will change it to "boomer." When you see single quote marks used this way, it often means you're looking at an article that didn't come from real news pros. Similarly, professionals know that the punctuation here is wrong: “He turned around when Kim yelled ‘ouch’.” The period goes before the single quote mark, not after.

Initials in parentheses. This one is far from universal. Some quality publications including magazines write: The Association of Retired Tuba Players (APTP). But most news organizations observe this Associated Press Stylebook rule: “Do not follow an organization’s full name with an abbreviation or acronym in parentheses or set off by dashes. If an abbreviation or acronym would not be clear on second reference without this arrangement, do not use it.”

Dashes in ranges. Forget what you've heard about dashes being a sign of AI writing. There’s no basis for that. But dashes in number ranges can be a clear sign you're not reading professional journalism. “Children ages 5–8 are admitted free.” Many journalism outlets are steeped in a tradition of using words instead: “5 to 8.” The dash is especially telling when a number range is preceded by the word " between,” which logically pairs with “and,” as in “between 5 and 8 years old.” Even if you could argue that a dash can represent the word “to” in 5–8, in no circumstance does it mean “and.”

Present tense speech tags and fancy speech tags. Speech tags, or quotation attributions, are terms like “the mayor said.” Many news agencies prefer this past-tense approach to alternatives like “says the mayor.” And when “said” is replaced by a fancier word like “enthused” or “reflected,” that’s a red flag, too.

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June 22, 2026

Adverbs: The descriptors of last resort

TOPICS: ADVERBS, AVOID ADVERBS, COPY EDITING, GRAMMAR, TRYING, WRITING

In the British comedy series “Trying” (highly recommend, by the way), a schoolteacher played by Sian Brooke tries to convince a fellow teacher that she doesn’t have romantic designs on a handsome single dad.

“I am really, genuinely, honestly not interested in him. OK?” Brooke’s character insists.

Her colleague isn’t buying it. “No,” she replies. “One adverb too many. Now I’m sure.”

Years ago, I dedicated a whole chapter of a book to the lesson the “Trying” writers delivered in just one minute of dialogue. The lesson is this: Adverbs, especially used to excess, can backfire, undermining the message and discrediting the person delivering it. Used poorly,  they tell your reader or listener: “My nouns and adjectives aren’t adequate on their own. They need bolstering. They need to be beefed up by additional words that drive home the fact that they mean what they’re supposed to mean.”

The evidence is hidden in plain sight in the great writing we enjoy every day. It’s the stuff we don’t notice because it’s not on the page. Take note of how often your favorite writers don’t use adverbs and you’ll see what I mean.

For example, here’s a passage that did not appear in Patrick Radden Keefe’s “London Falling”: “By the time Zac Brettler finally arrived at Mill Hill, he was completely surrounded by the next generation of eagerly aspiring Lebedevs.”

Those adverbs would have done a disservice to this otherwise solid sentence: “By the time Zac Brettler arrived at Mill Hill, he was surrounded by the next generation of aspiring Lebedevs.”

The following passage did not appear in Andrew Ross Sorkin’s “1929”: “Riordan had gently sat down in a generously overstuffed armchair in the corner of his bedroom, gingerly pulled out a pistol he had surreptitiously taken from the bank’s cashier desk, and violently shot himself in his right temple.”

Now see how much more impact the real passage had: “Riordan had sat down in an overstuffed armchair in the corner of his bedroom, pulled out a pistol he had taken from the bank’s cashier desk, and shot himself in his right temple.”

Even an innocuous seeming adverb in a short sentence can weaken the message. Compare, “The boss is extremely angry” to “The boss is angry.” In the latter, the anger is more menacing because it needs no assistant.

The lesson here is not that adverbs are bad. They’re crucial. And when you realize what a huge word category adverbs are, including terms like “therefore,” “tomorrow” and “here,” you see that most of them aren’t even optional. The lesson is that manner adverbs should be used sparingly.

Manner adverbs are those “ly” words we know so well, like “slowly” and “happily,” along with some that don’t end in “ly” but that also modify actions or adjectives, including  “fast,” “late” and “very.”  

They can be a sign that your verb or adjective is too weak. “She loudly closed the door” would be better as “She slammed the door.”

Or they can be a sign that you think that your verb or adjective is too weak, even though it’s fine: “The views are truly breathtaking.”

Of course, sometimes manner adverbs work beautifully. That’s especially true when they form the predicate of your sentence, as “beautifully” does above. Other times, they carry real meaning. “Extremely wealthy” can tell your reader something “wealthy” alone cannot. “Drove recklessly” can tell your reader something that “drove” cannot. The examples are endless.

So try your sentence without the adverb first. If it loses nothing of substance, keep it out. But if the adverb adds important information that your verb or adjective can’t convey alone, keep it in.

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June 8, 2026

'I'm good' vs. 'I'm well'

TOPICS: GOOD VS WELL, GRAMMAR

“How are you doing?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Does this answer make you cringe? If so, you’ll be disappointed to hear who says it, often, in grocery store checkout lines, when greeting friends and when meeting new people: your local grammar columnist.

I say “I’m good” all the time, knowing that a lot of language buffs see that as an error. To them, “I’m good” means either I’m virtuous (a good girl) or highly skilled at something (good at math.)

Their preference is legitimate. “I’m well” is more proper. It’s definitely the answer you want to give in white collar job interviews or when setting an example for children. But “I’m good” is an acceptable way to say “I’m well.” And it’s my preferred alternative anytime “I’m well” feels too formal or snooty, which is most of the time. I find my justification in the dictionary.

Look up “good” in Merriam-Webster and you’ll see a lot of stuff you expected: 1. “of favorable character or tendency,” as in “good news, good fortune, good grades or a good feeling about the game.” The next definitions also line up with expectations: 2. “bountiful, fertile: good land,” 3. “handsome, attractive: good looks” and 4. “of a high or desired quality: we ate at a good restaurant.”

If you stopped reading definitions at that point, you would continue to think it’s wrong to say “I’m good” when talking about health. But if you read all the way down to Merriam’s eighth definition of “good,” you’ll see this: “free from injury, sickness, or disease.”

In other words, “good” can mean “well.” So when someone asks how I am doing and I answer, “I’m good,” no grammar rules are broken.

People who oppose “I’m good,” in my experience, have difficulty explaining why they think “well” is the only correct option. In many cases, they say it’s because “good” is an adjective and “well” is an adverb. That sounds like a solid argument at first. But on closer inspection, it doesn’t hold up.

Yes, “well” is the adverb form of “good”: I do well at math because I’m good at math. But that’s not the form of “well” you use in “I am well.” That “well” is a completely different word — an adjective that means “in good health.”

The structure of our reply proves it. A sentence that begins with “I’m” or “I am” calls for an adjective, not an adverb, to modify the pronoun “I.” That’s a job for adjectives. “I’m happily” and “I am correctly” illustrate how adverbs don’t work in this structure. Therefore, just as “I’m happy” and “I am correct” use adjectives, so does “I am well” — and so does “I am good,” no matter your definition of good.

This business is even more confusing when you consider what happens in this exchange:

“How are you doing?”

“I’m doing well, thanks.”

In this case, “well” is the way to go, not because you need the adjective “well” to describe your health but because you need the adverb “well” to modify the verb “doing.”

For that reason, you’ll probably want to opt for “I’m doing well” instead of “I’m doing good.” But as regular readers of this column may have anticipated, there’s a twist. “I’m doing good” is poor form, but it’s not exactly wrong. Dictionaries do allow “good” to be used as an adverb, in which case it’s synonymous with the adverb form of “well.”

If this is more effort than you want to put into a simple greeting in the grocery store checkout, just follow this simple guide: “Well” is always right and proper. “Good” is always technically OK, though not always proper.

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June 3, 2026

Apostrophe in 'couples massage'?

TOPICS: APOSTROPHE IN COUPLES MASSAGE, GRAMMAR

Terms like “couple’s massage,” “couples’ retreat,” “shopper’s paradise,” “chocolate lover’s package,” “teachers college,” and “farmers market” are anything but straightforward. In fact, when I surveyed working copy editors to include their opinions in my punctuation book, they split on how to handle a lot of these. So not only are the rules unclear, but they’re open to the full range of interpretations.

For certain terms, like "teachers college," style guides have specific rules. AP says no apostrophe in "teachers college." "Farmers market" often has no apostrophe. "Couples’ retreat" might be plural possessive whereas "couple’s massage" is often singular possessive.

At the heart of all these issues are two questions that will lead you to the best choice: 1. Is the emphasis on the singular noun or the plural? 2. Is actual possession intended? 

If you’re talking about “a shopper’s paradise,” it seems to me that you’re emphasizing a singular fictional individual who serves as a sort of representative: the shopper. If you’re talking about a “couples’ retreat,” to me that sounds like it’s emphasizing multiple couples at once. Thought it’s sort of a toss-up whether it’s possessive or not. It would make just as much sense to think of “couples” as an adjective here: couples retreat.

If you disagree, your opinions are valid, too. But if you want to know mine, here are the picks I’d probably make:

farmers market

chocolate lover’s package

couples’ retreat

couple’s massage

shopper’s paradise (especially if it began with “a” – a shopper’s paradise. Not because the “a” necessarily modifies “shopper.” It could be modifying “paradise.” But because its presence there creates that singular vibe anyway.)

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May 11, 2026

Is every abbreviation an acronym?

TOPICS: Acronym, ACRONYM VS ABBREVIATION, COPY EDITING, GRAMMAR

It is possible, in grammar and in life, to unlearn something you learned wrong. But man, does it hurt. Especially in grammar where, for some reason, people (present company included) get very invested in tidbits of knowledge, be they real or not. We latch on to a supposed fact like “it’s wrong to end a sentence with a preposition,” then we spend years silently mouthing “gotcha” every time we see a sentence like “That’s the man I gave my ticket to.” Worse, we flaunt our supposed knowledge every chance we get, often starting with, “Actually, did you know it’s wrong to …” then watching the room clear.

So when we learn our precious kernel of wisdom is wrong, for example finding out that there is no rule against ending a sentence with a preposition, it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

At least, that’s how I felt when I learned that “FBI,” “AKA,” “TBD” and other initialisms can rightly be called acronyms. Let me explain.

The word “acronym,” formed from the Greek “akros,” meaning “tip” or “end,” and the English “onym,” meaning name, is quite new. The Chambers Dictionary of Etymology found its first use in 1943, but Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary found an example dating back to 1941. Either way, it was hardly used at all before the mid-1950s. In fact, my 1955 Oxford Universal Dictionary doesn’t list it.

And “tip” and “name” are a clue to its original meaning. Take the “tip” of the words in “radio detecting and ranging,” put them together into a name, and you might come up with “radar.” In fact, that’s both the meaning and the origin of “radar.” And it’s a classic example of an acronym.

Take the tips of the words “self-contained underwater breathing apparatus,” make them into a name, and you might get “scuba.”

Take the tips of the words in North Atlantic Treaty Organization, make them into a name, and you might get NATO.  

Note that you don’t pronounce that “en-ay-tee-oh.” Instead, the letters are pronounced as a single word, much like NAFTA and FOMO and SCOTUS.

That, as I learned long ago, is what makes an acronym something other than an abbreviation or initialism. “An acronym is a word formed from the first letter or letters of a series of words: laser (light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation),” writes the Associated Press Stylebook. “An abbreviation is not an acronym.”

Long before I understood that rules in style guides like AP aren’t universal — they’re just guidelines to apply when using that style — I took this “acronym” business to heart.  I believed it, repeated it and applied it as a rule in my writing and editing. Years later, when I learned that dictionaries are more universally authoritative than style guides, I looked it up. The dictionary I used at the time, Webster’s New World College Dictionary, said the same thing AP did. Indeed, that’s where AP got their rule. Merriam-Webster’s had the same definition, but they went on to say that you can use “acronym” as a synonym of “initialism” if you like.

In other words, you — that is I — couldn’t rightly say it’s wrong to call “FBI” an acronym just because you pronounce its letters individually. It may be first and foremost an abbreviation, but at least one very authoritative dictionary says the word “acronym” can apply here.

It was like all that effort I put into learning the definition was for nothing, and all the times I said, “Actually, did you know it’s wrong to use ‘acronym’ unless the letters are pronounced as a word,” I wasn’t as smart as I thought. Lesson learned.

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April 20, 2026

The Best Punctuation Book, Period now fully revised

TOPICS: BEST PUNCTUATION BOOK, COMMAS, COPY EDITING, PUNCTUATION

The major publishing styles have changed a lot of rules, especially for punctuation. Prefixes are less likely to need hyphens, "etc." is no longer necessarily followed by a comma in book publishing, and more. The revised edition of The Best Punctuation Book, Period reflects all the newest rules. You can find it wherever you buy books and e-books.

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April 13, 2026

A friendly reminder about "and I" vs. "and me"

TOPICS: AND I VS. AND ME, GRAMMAR, I VS. ME, OBJECT PRONOUNS

A friendly reminder: Don’t say “between you and I.” And don’t say “The boss wants to talk with Bob and I” or “Thanks for meeting with John and I.”

It’s me. Me, me, me. In all those sentences, “I” is a poor choice. Yes, you could argue that the “I” form is idiomatic. But why would you want to? You’re just inviting judgment. And because it’s just as easy to use “me,” there’s no reason to come off like you don’t know the difference between object and subject pronouns.

And if you don’t know the difference now, you will in about thirty seconds. Here goes: “I” is a subject pronoun, which means it acts as the subject of a verb. “Me” is an object pronoun, which means it works as the object of a verb or the object of a preposition. So it’s:

I am here = I is the subject of the verb am

I believe in hard work = I is the subject of the verb believe

I knocked his block off = I is the subject of the verb knocked

Kiss me = me is the object of the verb kiss

He saw me = me is the object of the verb saw

Come with me = me is the object of the preposition with

Talk to me = me is the object of the preposition to

Easy right? Yes. And contrary to popular belief, it’s just as easy when you introduce another person. Nothing changes.

She and I are here = I is a subject of the verb are

Brad and I believe in hard work = I is a subject of the verb believe

My trusty robot and I knocked his block off = I is the subject of the verb knocked

Kiss my baby and me = me is the object of the verb kiss

He saw Craig and me = me is the object of the verb saw

Come with Claire and me = me is the object of the preposition with

Talk to Steve and me = me is the object of the preposition to

When in doubt, just try the sentence without the other person. If it’s “me” when Steve, Claire and the gang are absent, it’s “me” when they’re present, too.

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April 6, 2026

Punctuation is an artificial construct, which is why it's less intuitive than grammar and usage

TOPICS: COPY EDITING, GRAMMAR, PUNCTUATION

When it comes to grammar and word usage, English speakers can trust their gut. For example, if you know that “fewer” is usually better than “less” for countable things, you might nonetheless hesitate to say something like “I have one fewer dollar than I did yesterday.” “Fewer” just sounds worse than “less” here. That instinct is right: “less” is more correct to describe singular things, like one dollar.

Punctuation doesn’t work the same way. When it comes to questions of when to use an apostrophe or hyphen or where to put a period or comma, your instincts can’t be trusted.

Unlike language, which developed naturally, punctuation is manufactured — a set of rules that humans created for use in print. And because punctuation didn’t arise organically, it has less to do with your instincts.

That’s why your gut might tell you to use an apostrophe to form the plural in “We ordered a round of Bellini’s,” when in fact you should write “Bellinis.” The reason: You don’t use apostrophes to make plurals, except when you do, for example when writing student grades: “Henry got all A’s and B’s.”

Your gut may tell you to put an apostrophe in a past tense verb like “I demo’d the entire product line,” when in fact it should be “demoed.” You may be naturally inclined to use an apostrophe in verb forms like “He always just Venmo’s me the money,” when in fact it should be, well, I’m not sure, since Venmo isn’t in the dictionary as a verb. But I’d bet the farm on “Venmoed.” The reason: You don’t use apostrophes to conjugate verbs, except when you do.

Take, for example, “OK.” If you want to use it as a past-tense verb and you don’t want to spell it out as “okay,” how would you do that? OKed? OKd? O.K.ed? O.K.d? If you’re following AP style or Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary, none of those. According to those sources, you use an apostrophe to make different forms of the verb: We OK’d the project. She OK’s projects like this all the time. They’ve been OK’ing these projects for years.

Why no periods in OK? Simply because that’s AP’s preference, which needn’t apply to you if you prefer O.K. Though that does make the verb forms like O.K.’d even weirder.

But if your hunch is that this means abbreviations like US and ID have no periods, your hunch is off, at least as far as AP is concerned. In that style, U.S. has periods, ID does not and, for the record, USA doesn’t either. You can defy all those rules and still be in line with professional publishers, though, since book publishing allows all those breaks from AP style.

Quotation marks are another danger zone for go-with-your-gut writers. People seem to understand that a period or comma comes before the closing quote mark when the whole quote is something someone said: “I like the beach,” Josie said. But when the quote marks are there to call out words, people assume the comma goes outside: Today there’s a “red flag warning”, according to the posted signs. That assumption makes sense both instinctively and logically, yet it’s not true. The comma or period, in American English at least, always goes inside.

Then there’s the issue of terms like “e-reader,” “email,” “e-book” and “esports,” all of which are correct in AP style, and none of which have much logic to how they’re hyphenated.

Anyone who knows, or intuitively understands, that two words describing a noun are hyphenated ends up writing some compounds correctly, “a well-appointed office,” which is right, and other compounds incorrectly, like “a beautifully-decorated office,” which is wrong because adverbs that end in “ly” are exceptions to this hyphenation rule.

If you want to get words right, don’t overthink them. If you want to get punctuation right, ignore your instincts and stick to rules: Don’t use apostrophes to make plurals unless it’s absolutely necessary. Don’t use apostrophes to conjugate verbs unless the dictionary says otherwise. Always put a period or comma before a closing quote mark. Don’t hyphenate “ly” adverbs. And check a dictionary to see if periods are preferred in abbreviations.

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March 30, 2026

Our bizarre dependence on the letter S

TOPICS: CONTRACTIONS, COPY EDITING, GRAMMAR, PLURALS, possessives, VERB CONJUGATION

One of the craziest things about the English language is our bizarre dependence on the letter S. We give it way too many jobs.

* S has to work like any other letter, representing a specific sound (spill, brass, star).

* We also use S to form plurals (apple —> apples).

* We use it to form possessives (Pete’s car, Mr. Smith’s hat).

* We use it to conjugate verbs. (I walk, he walks. You think, she thinks.)

* And we use it to stand in for our most common verb in contractions (Joe is nice —> Joe’s nice).

Other languages don’t have this problem. For example, in Spanish, S is used to make plurals (un gato, dos gatos). But to show possession, Spanish speakers use “de,” meaning “of” (el gato de Juan = Juan’s cat). And Spanish doesn’t rely solely on S to conjugate verbs (yo hablo, tu hablas, el habla, nosotros hablamos, ellos hablan).

Italian doesn’t even use S for its plurals. It has a different system in which one horse -- un cavallo -- becomes i cavalli in the plural.

Our weird dependence on S is at the root of a good many mistakes. For example, when people write “I went to the Thomas’s house” (which should be Thomases’) or “The dog wagged it’s tail (which should be “its”) or “Ray let’s the dog on the couch” (which should be “lets”).

The only way to avoid these mistakes is to keep track of whether your word is plural, possessive, both plural and possessive, a contraction, or a conjugated verb. And with all those pitfalls, it’s not hard to understand why someone could get so flustered as to think that one carrot plus another carrot equals two “carrot’s.”

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