I discussed the subject once with an old French lady.
The English reader forms his idea of French life from the French novel; it leads to mistaken notions.

There are French Darbys, French Joans, many thousands of them.
"Believe me," said my old French friend, "your English way is wrong; our way is not perfect, but it is the better, I am sure.

You leave it entirely to the young people.

What do they know of life, of themselves, even.

He falls in love with a pretty face.