Champagne? It’s too ostentatious a drink. It’s like a highly rouged woman.
The loving-eyed claret should be chosen.
I sent half a dozen bottles to Mrs. Wistaria’s.
A charity woman should be dressed in black and white. I went to Dupont street, however, in my grey dress.
Her husband struggled to entertain me. His clumsy smile appeared all the time at the wrong cue.
Poor Mr. What’s-his-name!
Their business was an absurdly small affair.
The whole stock hardly valued above one hundred dollars.
I thought I could conduct it rightly.
I was carried away by a sudden fancy.