I feel as if I were at some big, dull party, in a room full of people I shouldn't wish to speak to.

What should I care for their beauty?
It's a bore, and, worse still, it's a reproach.

I have a great many ennuis; I feel vicious." "If the Louvre has so little comfort for you, why in the world did you come here ?" Newman asked.
"That is one of my ennuis.

I came to meet my cousin--a dreadful English cousin, a member of my mother's family--who is in Paris for a week for her husband, and who wishes me to point out the 'principal beauties.' Imagine a woman who wears a green crape bonnet in December and has straps sticking out of the ankles of her interminable boots! My mother begged I would do something to oblige them.

I have undertaken to play valet de place this afternoon.