"An easy prophecy. The destiny of a pretty woman is to catch lovers."
"'The cat doth play, and after slay,'" said Greenleaf, laughing.
"Play while you can, my dear boy; if she is a cat, you'll get the final coup soon enough. To finish the fortune-telling,—she will continue her present delightful pursuits as long as youth and beauty last; and the beauty will last a long time after the youth has gone. She may pick up some young man of fortune and marry him; but it is not likely; the rich always marry the rich. Just this side of the blasé period, while still in the fulness of her charms, she will open her battery of smiles upon some wealthy old widower and compel him to place her at the head of his establishment. Then, with a secure position and increased facilities, she will draw new throngs of admirers, as long as she has power to fascinate, or until there are no more fools left."
"A pleasing picture of domestic felicity for the husband!"
"Precisely what he deserves. When an old fool marries a young flirt, he deserves to wear whatever honors she may bestow upon him."
"Do you remember how you artfully persuaded me into this intimacy? And now you are making game of me for following your own suggestions."
"Me? I never suggest; I never persuade."
"You did, you crafty old fox! You advised me to fall in love with her."
"Did I? Well, I think now you have gone far enough. A sip from the cup of enchantment is quite sufficient; you needn't swallow the whole of it."
"But people can't always control themselves. Can you trust yourself to stop this side of insensibility, when you take ether? or be sure you won't get drunk, if you commence the evening with a party of dissipated fellows?"