Coaches--there they are.

Parties--one, two, three, every night, as many as she please.

Gentlemen, who will be her humble slaves; such a plenty--all London.

Or, if she want to be alone, no one can come near her.

Why should she marry?
No." "But she might be in love with somebody," said the captain, in a surprised but humble tone.
"Love! Bah! Be in love, so that she may be shut up in an old barrack with de powders!" The way in which that word barrack was pronounced, and the middle letters sounded, almost lifted the captain off his seat.
"Love is very pretty at seventeen, when the imagination is telling a parcel of lies, and when life is one dream.