If she were French she'd be a femme d'esprit.

She has invented a nuance of her own and she has done it all by herself, for Edward figures in her drawing-room only as one of those queer extinguishers of fire in the corridors of hotels.

He's just a bucket on a peg.

The men, the young and the clever ones, find it a house--and heaven knows they're right--with intellectual elbow-room, with freedom of talk.

Most English talk is a quadrille in a sentry-box.
You'll tell me we go further in Italy, and I won't deny it, but in Italy we have the common sense not to have little girls in the room.