As if any one needed to marry! And, worse yet, he marries a Parisian woman, one of those frowsy-haired chits that are the ruin of an honest house, when he had at his hand a fine girl, of almost his own age, a countrywoman, used to work, and well put together, as you might say!" "Mademoiselle Planus, my sister," to whose physical structure he alluded, had a magnificent opportunity to exclaim, "Oh! the men, the men!" but she was silent.

It was a very delicate question, and perhaps, if Risler had chosen in time, he might have been the only one.
Old Sigismond continued: "And this is what we have come to.

For three months the leading wall-paper factory in Paris has been tied to the petticoats of that good-for-nothing.

You should see how the money flies.

All day long I do nothing but open my wicket to meet Monsieur Georges's calls.