"Don't worry about me, Mr.Burnamy." "Why can't we have this sort of thing at home ?" "We're getting something like it in the roof-gardens," said March.

"We couldn't have it naturally because the climate is against it, with us.
At this time in the morning over there, the sun would be burning the life out of the air, and the flies would be swarming on every table.

At nine A.M.the mosquitoes would be eating us up in such a grove as this.
So we have to use artifice, and lift our Posthof above the fly-line and the mosquito-line into the night air.

I haven't seen a fly since I came to Europe.

I really miss them; it makes me homesick." "There are plenty in Italy," his wife suggested.
"We must get down there before we go home." "But why did nobody ever tell us that there were no flies in Germany?
Why did no traveller ever put it in his book?
When your stewardess said so on the steamer, I remember that you regarded it as a bluff." He turned to Burnamy, who was listening with the deference of a contributor: "Isn't Lili rather long?
I mean for such a very prompt person.