"The girl you are speaking of is quite out of the question.

I do not say so for my daughter's sake, but because everything in bad taste is odious to me; it is hardly conceivable how such a young thing could have had the audacity to force herself in here.

A pretty face, to be sure, opens locks and bars.

She is--do not be too much startled--she is nothing more than a work-girl in the papyrus factory of our excellent host, Plutarch." "That is not the truth," Pollux interrupted, indignantly, as he heard this assertion.
"Moderate your tongue, young man," replied the dealer.

"I can call you to witness, noble Plutarch." "Let her be whom she may," answered the old man, with annoyance.