Magdalen advanced to meet her sister, carelessly swinging her closed parasol from side to side, carelessly humming an air from the overture which had preceded the rising of the curtain on the previous night.
"Luncheon-time already!" she said, looking at her watch.

"Surely not ?" "Have you and Mr.Francis Clare been alone in the shrubbery since ten o'clock ?" asked Norah.
"_Mr._ Francis Clare! How ridiculously formal you are.

Why don't you call him Frank ?" "I asked you a question, Magdalen." "Dear me, how black you look this morning! I'm in disgrace, I suppose.
Haven't you forgiven me yet for my acting last night?
I couldn't help it, love; I should have made nothing of Julia, if I hadn't taken you for my model.

It's quite a question of Art.

In your place, I should have felt flattered by the selection." "In _your_ place, Magdalen, I should have thought twice before I mimicked my sister to an audience of strangers." "That's exactly why I did it--an audience of strangers.