The way your women don't marry is the ruin here of society, and I've been assured in good quarters--though I don't know so much about that--the ruin also of conversation and of literature.

Isn't it precisely just a little to keep Nanda herself from becoming that kind of appendage--say to poor Harold, say, one of these days, to her younger brother and sister--that friends like you and me feel the importance of bestirring ourselves in time?
Of course she's supposedly young, but she's really any age you like: your London world so fearfully batters and bruises them." She had gone fast and far, but it had given Mr.Longdon time to feel himself well afloat.

There were so many things in it all to take up that he laid his hand--of which, he was not unconscious, the feebleness exposed him--on the nearest.

"Why I'm sure her mother--after twenty years of it--is fresh enough." "Fresh?
You find Mrs.Brook fresh ?" The Duchess had a manner that, in its all-knowingness, rather humiliated than encouraged; but he was all the more resolute for being conscious of his own reserves.

"It seems to me it's fresh to look about thirty." "That indeed would be perfect.