'You never said you were.

If you are, why haven't you mentioned it to me?
I can't find out your plans by instinct.' 'Now, Rosa, you know very well what I mean, my dear.' 'Well then, why did you begin with your detestable red-nosed giantesses?
And she would, she would, she would, she would, she WOULD powder it!' cries Rosa, in a little burst of comical contradictory spleen.
'Somehow or other, I never can come right in these discussions,' says Edwin, sighing and becoming resigned.
'How is it possible, sir, that you ever can come right when you're always wrong?
And as to Belzoni, I suppose he's dead;--I'm sure I hope he is--and how can his legs or his chokes concern you ?' 'It is nearly time for your return, Rosa.

We have not had a very happy walk, have we ?' 'A happy walk?
A detestably unhappy walk, sir.

If I go up-stairs the moment I get in and cry till I can't take my dancing lesson, you are responsible, mind!' 'Let us be friends, Rosa.' 'Ah!' cries Rosa, shaking her head and bursting into real tears, 'I wish we _could_ be friends! It's because we can't be friends, that we try one another so.

I am a young little thing, Eddy, to have an old heartache; but I really, really have, sometimes.