I'm not a pauper, you know.

My trustees pay Lord Buntingford whatever I cost him, and I shall have a good deal to spend.

I shall have a horse--and perhaps a little motor.

The chauffeur here is a fractious idiot.

He has done that Rolls-Royce car of Cousin Philip's balmy, and cut up quite rough when I spoke to him about it." "Done it what ?" said Mrs.Friend faintly.
"Balmy.