I knew it would.

She has a craze for the minimum of material in slippers--about an inch of leather (I suppose it's leather) from the toe.

I picked the vain thing up and balanced it again on her stocking-foot.
"Will you do that eight years hence ?" said Judith.
"My dear, as I've done it eight thousand times the last eight years, I suppose I shall," I replied, laughing.

"I'm a creature of habit." "You may marry, Marcus." "God forbid!" I ejaculated.
"Some pretty fresh girl." "I abominate pretty fresh girls.

I would just as soon talk to a baby in a perambulator." "The women men are crazy to marry are not always those they particularly delight to converse with, my friend," said Judith.
I lit another cigarette.