"Now, in her memoirs, Mrs. Siddons asserts that 'no woman can ever reach perfection until the age of nine and twenty or thirty,' and I require a few years to reach that mature time," she replied.
Another kiss, and perhaps another—I don't think we counted them.
"Ah! how happy I am now!" she exclaimed, as she clasped her fair fingers on my arm, with her cheek reclining on my shoulder.
"And I, too, Cora."
"Shall I sing you a verse of an old song?"
"If you please. Is it the 'Thistle and Rose'?"
"No."
"What then?"
"It's gude to be merry and wise,
It's gude to be honest and true;
It's gude to be off wi' the old love
Before ye are on wi' the new.
But it is too bad to tease you, Newton dear!"