"That is why you stand hours in front of your glass, practising smiles."
"For you alone, Fifine.—Ah! now where are my gloves?"
"I say, there’ll be a supper, no doubt, where you’re going? Bring me something."
"You expect me to put ices in my pocket, I suppose?"
"There’ll be other things besides ices; I want you to bring me some sweetmeats, or I’ll never put on curl-papers for you again."
"All right—we will see."
"Is monsieur going very far?"
"Rue du Helder."
"The milords’ quarter!—You mean to take a cab, no doubt?"
"I surely shan’t go on foot in this costume.—Let me see—it’s half past nine; I shall be at the Baron de Marcey’s at quarter to ten. That will do."