We will stroll through the ballroom, and the first girl I point out to you, you must go and tell her that I love her." "Why don't you go and tell her yourself ?" replied Alexander in his magnificent nasal bass.
"Eh?
my dear fellow," said Rodolphe.

"I can assure you that I have quite forgot how one sets about saying that sort of thing.

In all my love stories it has been my friends who have written the preface, and sometimes even the _denouement_; I never know how to begin." "It is enough to know how to end," said Alexander, "but I understand you.

I knew a girl who loved the oboe, perhaps you would suit her." "Ah!" said Rodolphe.

"I should like her to have white gloves and blue eyes." "The deuce, blue eyes, I won't say no--but gloves--you know that we can't have everything at once.