Of course we want to see the pictures, too.

There's that beautiful blue and orange one of Murillo's that papa has a little copy of.

_It's_ at the Louvre." "I didn't say it wasn't," retorted Ralph.

"It's Sylvia's love of horrors I was laughing at." "She _doesn't_ love horrors," replied Molly, more and more indignant.
"_You_ needn't talk," said Ralph coolly.

"Who was it that took a box of matches in her pocket to Holyrood Palace, and was going to strike one to look for the blood-stains on the floor?
It was the only thing you cared to see, and yet you are such a goose--crying out if a butterfly settles on you.