"Well, we are neither of us twenty now, you know.

Have I told you about my new play?
Mac is writing one; really for me this time.

You see, I'm coming on." "I've seen nothing else.

What kind of a part is it?
Shall you wear yellow gowns?
I hope so." He was looking at her round slender figure, as she stood by the piano, turning over a pile of music, and he felt the energy in every line of it.
"No, it isn't a dress-up part.

He doesn't seem to fancy me in fine feathers.