"I don't mind confessing that I was a fool myself.

You cannot regret your marriage any more than I do mine." This was a little too much.

Rose sprang up, flinging the baby into the cradle, and faced her lord and master with cheeks of flame and eyes of fire.
"You villain!" she cried.

"You cruel, cold-blooded villain, I hate you! Do you hear, Reginald Stanford, I hate you! You have deceived me as shamefully as ever man deceived woman! Do you think I don't know where you were last night, or whom you were with?
Don't I know it was with that miserable, degraded Frenchwoman--that disgusting Madame Millefleur--whom I would have whipped through the streets of London, if I could." "I don't doubt it, my dear," murmured Mr.Stanford, still unruffled by his wife's storm of passion.

"Your gentle sex are famous for the mercy they always show to their fairer sisters.