English young women of fortune are not looking for that kind of thing.

Poor old Billy wasn't good enough." Bettina told the story to her father when they next met.

She had grown into a tall young creature by this time.

Her low, full voice was like a bell and was capable of ringing forth some fine, mellow tones of irony.
"And in America we are pleased," she said, "and flatter ourselves that we are receiving the proper tribute of adoration of our American wit and beauty.

We plume ourselves on our conquests." "No, Betty," said her father, and his reflective deliberation had meaning.