I don't care for Mollie Dane--I never did care for her--and I don't mourn her loss in the least.

I don't care that"-- the lady snapped her jeweled fingers somewhat vulgarly--"if I never see her again.

It is as well to tell you the truth, my dear.

One should have no secrets from one's husband, they say." She laughed lightly, and drew her opera-cloak up over her superb bare shoulders.

Mr.Walraven's darkest scowl did not intimidate her in the least.
"Leave the room, madame!" ordered her husband, authoritatively; "and take you care that I don't assert my right and compel you to obey me, before long." "Compel!" It was such a good joke that Mrs.Blanche's silvery laugh rang through the apartment.