Of course I was enchanted.

The opera is a rare luxury now, and la Millefleur is all the fashion.

I had the happiness of bending over her chair all the evening--don't glare so, my love, it makes you quite hideous--and accepted a seat beside her in the carriage when it was all over.

A delicious _petit souper_ awaited us in Madame's bijou of a boudoir; and I don't mind owning I was a little disguised by sparkling Moselle when I came home.

Open confessions are good for the soul--there is one for you, my dear." Her face was livid as she listened, and he smiled up at her with a smile that nearly drove her mad.
"I hate you, Reginald Stanford!" was all she could say.