I am that most affecting spectacle--an orphan-boy." "You have no brothers and sisters, I am _sure_," say I, confidently.
"I have not, but why you should be _sure_ of it, I am at a loss to imagine." "You seem to take offense rather easily," I say, ingenuously.

"You looked quite cross when I said I did not think much of the flowers--and again when I said I had forgotten your name--and again when I told you, you were too young to have a wife: now, you know, in a large family, one has all that sort of nonsense knocked out of one." "Has one ?" (rather shortly).
"Nobody would mind whether one were huffy or not," continue I; "they would only laugh at one." "What a pleasant, civil-spoken thing a large family must be!" he says, dryly.
We have reached Sir Roger.

I had set off on my little expedition feeling rather out of conceit with my young friend, and I return with those dispositions somewhat aggravated.

We find my husband sitting where we left him, placidly smoking and listening to the band.
"Four-and-twenty fiddlers all in a row!" They have long finished the Uhlanenritt, and are now clashing out a brisk Hussarenritt, in which one plainly hears the hussars' thundering gallop, while the conductor madly waves his arms, as he has been doing unintermittingly for the last two hours.
"You were quite wise," say I, laying my hand on the back of his chair; "you had much the best of it! they were a great imposture!" "Were they ?" he says, taking his cigar out of his mouth, and lifting his handsome and severe iron-gray eyes to mine.

"They were farther off than you thought, were not they?
I began to think you had not been able to find them." "Have we been so long ?" I say, surprised.