"Very. This comes of writing poetry!" gravely and philosophically remarked the surgeon's wife.
Her husband entered at that moment.
"Pretty poetry it is!" he said. "Hang me, if I can make head or tail of it. Long words and inflated sentiments—nothing else!"
"Such trash!" scornfully added Mrs. Ruddles.
"So frivolous!" chimed in Mrs. Spedley.
"As if there was anything in that, to cock up one's head about," pursued Mrs. Ruddles.
"And, to fancy herself so superior to every one else."
"Well, give me good, common sense in a woman," fervently ejaculated Spedley.
"And me."
"And me."