His park's enclosed by a gigantic iron fence, some thirty miles round," Henrietta announced for the information of Mr.Osmond.

"I should like him to converse with a few of our Boston radicals." "Don't they approve of iron fences ?" asked Mr.Bantling.
"Only to shut up wicked conservatives.

I always feel as if I were talking to YOU over something with a neat top-finish of broken glass." "Do you know him well, this unreformed reformer ?" Osmond went on, questioning Isabel.
"Well enough for all the use I have for him." "And how much of a use is that ?" "Well, I like to like him." "'Liking to like'-- why, it makes a passion!" said Osmond.
"No"-- she considered--"keep that for liking to DISlike." "Do you wish to provoke me then," Osmond laughed, "to a passion for HIM ?" She said nothing for a moment, but then met the light question with a disproportionate gravity.

"No, Mr.Osmond; I don't think I should ever dare to provoke you.

Lord Warburton, at any rate," she more easily added, "is a very nice man." "Of great ability ?" her friend enquired.
"Of excellent ability, and as good as he looks." "As good as he's good-looking do you mean?
He's very good-looking.