But send for the Lady Gwendolen--do; for I reckon the peerage regulations require that she must come home and let on to go into seclusion and mourn for those Arkansas blatherskites she's lost." "My darling! Blatherskites?
Remember--noblesse oblige." "There, there--talk to me in your own tongue, Ross--you don't know any other, and you only botch it when you try.

Oh, don't stare--it was a slip, and no crime; customs of a life-time can't be dropped in a second.
Rossmore--there, now, be appeased, and go along with you and attend to Gwendolen.

Are you going to write, Washington ?--or telegraph ?" "He will telegraph, dear." "I thought as much," my lady muttered, as she left the room.

"Wants it so the address will have to appear on the envelop.

It will just make a fool of that child.