She sank into a low chair with listless grace.
"Reginald Brott again, I suppose," she remarked curtly.

"I wish the man had never existed." "That is a very cruel speech, Lucille," the Prince said, with a languishing glance towards her, "for if it had not been for Brott we should never have dared to call you out from your seclusion." "Then more heartily than ever," Lucille declared, "I wish the man had never been born.

You cannot possibly flatter yourself, Prince, that your summons was a welcome one." He shrugged his shoulders.
"I shall never, be able to believe," he said, "that the Countess Radantz was able to do more than support existence in a small American town--without society, with no scope for her ambitions, detached altogether from the whole civilized world." "Which only goes to prove, Prince," Lucille remarked contemptuously, "that you do not understand me in the least.

As a place of residence Lenox would compare very favourably with--say Homburg, and for companionship you forget my husband.

I never met the woman yet who did not prefer the company of one man, if only it were the right one, to the cosmopolitan throng we call society." "It sounds idyllic, but very gauche," Lady Carey remarked drily.