"It would be interesting, I think, to a student of social statistics, to know how many engagements there are to one marriage, how many offers to one engagement, how many flirtations to one offer, and how many tender advances to one flirtation."
"Oh, Lydia! Love and Arithmetic! they never went together. I leave all calculations to my wise and busy brother. I like to wander like a hummingbird, that keeps no account of the flowercups it has sipped out of."
"Let us reckon. I can help you, perhaps. I have heard you talk of half a dozen. There is Colonel Langford,—one."
"Handsome, proud, and shallow. Let him go!"
"There is Lieutenant Allen,—two."
"Fierce, impatient, and exacting. He can go also. I had as lief be loved by a lion."
"Next is Mr. Lanman,—three."
"Wily, plausible, passionate, and treacherous. He is only a cat in a new sphere of existence."
"Then there is Denims,—I am not sure about the order,—four."
"Rich, vain, and stupid;—there never was such a dolt."