You may believe me or not, sir, I never knew the young lady; I don't know what she did.

Well, I'm quite in love with the poor thing; I look after her well, and I let her have her camellias at an honest price.

She is the dead body that I like the best.

You see, sir, we are obliged to love the dead, for we are kept so busy, we have hardly time to love anything else." I looked at the man, and some of my readers will understand, without my needing to explain it to them, the emotion which I felt on hearing him.
He observed it, no doubt, for he went on: "They tell me there were people who ruined themselves over that girl, and lovers that worshipped her; well, when I think there isn't one of them that so much as buys her a flower now, that's queer, sir, and sad.

And, after all, she isn't so badly off, for she has her grave to herself, and if there is only one who remembers her, he makes up for the others.