You are such good company;" and she stretched again.
"I was just about to catch the turn of the lip," remonstrated Triplet.
"Well, catch it--it won't run away." "I'll try, ma'am.

A pleasant half-hour it will be for me, when they all come here like cits at a shilling ordinary--each for his cut." "At a sensitive goose!" "That is as may be, madam.

Those critics flay us alive!" "You should not hold so many doors open to censure." "No, ma'am.

Head a little more that way.

I suppose you _can't_ sit quiet, ma'am ?--then never mind!" (This resignation was intended as a stinging reproach.) "Mr.Cibber, with his sneering snuff-box! Mr.Quin, with his humorous bludgeon! Mrs.Clive, with her tongue! Mr.Snarl, with his abuse! And Mr.Soaper, with his praise!--arsenic in treacle I call it! But there, I deserve it all! For look on this picture, and on this!" "Meaning, I am painted as well as my picture!" "Oh, no, no, no! But to turn from your face, madam--on which the lightning of expression plays, continually--to this stony, detestable, dead daub!--I could--And I will, too! Imposture! dead caricature of life and beauty, take that!" and he dashed his palette-knife through the canvas.