With ozone each nerve that braces, pleasant strolls, and pretty faces,
Sure, of all fair seaside places, Breton Dinard bears the bell!
Compensation,—"Ullo, Jones! You in Paris!"
"Yes, I've just run over for a holiday."
"Where's your wife?"
"Couldn't come, poor dear. Had to stop at home on account of the baby!"
"Why, your holiday will be half spoiled!"
"Yes. Mean to stay twice as long, to make up!"