She _is_ pretty, don't you think so, dear ?" "She's just like you, Edith," said Constance, who understood things quite clearly.
"Then, in heaven's name, Connie, why are they staring at her so impolitely--all of them ?" "It's because she is so pretty.

Goodness, Edith, don't let every little thing worry you.

You'll have wrinkles and grey hairs soon enough." "It's all very nice for you to talk," grumbled Edith.

"I'm going mad with loneliness.

You have a lover near you all the time--he's mad about you.