They both came this morning to the Albany to see what they could do for me.
I don't see what they can do, save help Rogers put studs in my shirts.
They expressed such affectionate concern that at last I cried out: "My dear girls, if you don't smile, I'll sit upon the hearthrug and howl like a dog." Then they exchanged glances and broke into hectic gaiety, dear things, under the impression that they were brightening me up.

I am being deluged with letters.

I had no idea I was such a popular person.

They come from high placed and lowly, from constituents whom my base and servile flattery have turned into friends, from Members of Parliament, from warm-hearted dowagers and from little girls who have inveigled me out to lunch for the purpose of confiding to me their love affairs.

I could set up as a general practitioner of medicine on the advice that is given me.