"Fancy my coming out with a _sacre nom de Dieu_ in a French drawing-room!" "Fancy you shouting 'damn' in an English one." "That's true," she said.

"I suppose drawing-rooms are the same all the world over.

I do try to talk like a lady--at least, what I imagine they talk like, for I've never met one." "You see one every time you look in the glass," said I.
Her olive face flushed.

"You mustn't say such things to me if you don't mean them.

I like to think all you say to me is true." "Why in the world," I cried, "should you not be a lady?
You have the instincts of one.