My mother-in-law calls me--what is the pretty word ?--a gad-about?
accuses me of going to unheard-of places, and thinks it ought to be joy enough for me to sit at home and count over my ancestors on my fingers.

But why should I bother about my ancestors?
I am sure they never bothered about me.

I don't propose to live with a green shade on my eyes; I hold that things were made to look at.

My husband, you know, has principles, and the first on the list is that the Tuileries are dreadfully vulgar.

If the Tuileries are vulgar, his principles are tiresome.