Now it seems you can't get on without them." "My dear Emmy," said Zora calmly, "men as possible lovers and men as staunch friends are two entirely different conceptions." Emmy broke a piece of toast viciously.
"I think they're beasts," she exclaimed.
"Good heavens! Why ?" "Oh, I don't know.

They are." Then, after the quick, frightened glance of the woman who fears she has said too much, she broke into a careless half-laugh.
"They are such liars.

Fawcett promised me a part in his new production and writes to-day to say I can't have it." As Emmy's professional disappointments had been many, and as Zora in her heart of hearts did not entirely approve of her sister's musical-comedy career, she tempered her sympathy with philosophic reflections.

She had never taken Emmy seriously.

All her life long Emmy had been the kitten sister, with a kitten's pretty but unimportant likes, dislikes, habits, occupations, and aspirations.