So Wilkottle floated about the rooms upon limp pinions for sometime, wondering where to settle, and brushed Fanny Newt in flying.
"Oh! Mr.Wilkottle, you are just the man.

Mr.Whitloe, Laura Magot, and I were just talking about Batrachian reptiles.

Which are the best toads, the fattest ?" "Or does it depend upon the dressing ?" asked Mr.Whitloe.
"Or the quantity of jewelry in the head ?" said Laura Magot.
Mr.Wilkottle smiled, bowed, and passed on.
If they had called him an ass--as they were ladies of the best position--he would have bowed, smiled, and passed on.
"An amiable fellow," said Fanny, as he disappeared; "but quite a remarkable fool." Mr.Zephyr Wetherley, still struggling with the hand problem, approached Miss Fanny, and remarked that it was very warm.
"You're cool enough in all conscience, Mr.Wetherley," said she.
"My dear Miss Newt, 'pon honor," replied Zephyr, beginning to be very red, and wiping his moist brow.
"I call any man cool who would have told St.Lawrence upon the gridiron that he was frying," interrupted Fanny.
"Oh!--ah!--yes!--on the gridiron! Yes, very good! Ha! ha! Quite on the gridiron--very much so! 'Tis very hot here.

Don't you think so?
It's quite confusing, like--sort of bewildering.

Don't you think so, Miss Newt ?" Fanny was leveling her black eyes at him for a reply, but Mr.Wetherley, trying to regulate his hands, said, hastily, "Yes, quite on the gridiron--very!" and rapidly moved off it by moving on.
"Good evenin', Mrs.Newt," said a voice in another part of the room.
"Good-evenin', marm.