Then she went into details: "You spell abominable with two m's--and that's abominable; you spell ridiculous with a k--and that's ridicklous.

So after this don't you presume to speak to me, for I shall never speak to you again." "Very well, then," said Percy.

"I, too, will be silent forever." "Oh, I dare say," said Julia; "a chatter-box like you." "Even chatter-boxes are silent in the grave," suggested Percy; "and if we are to part like this forever to-day, to-morrow I shall be no more." "Well, you could not be much less," said Julia, but with a certain shame-faced change of tone that perhaps, if Percy had been more experienced, might have given him a ray of hope.
"Well," said he, "I know one lady that would not treat these presents with quite so much contempt." "Oh, I have seen her," said Julia, spitefully.

"She has been setting her cap at you for some time; it's Miss Susan Beckley--a fine conquest--great, fat, red-haired thing." "Auburn." "Yes, all-burn, scarlet, carrots, _flamme d'enfer_.

Well, go and give her my leavings, yourself and your ancestral--paste." "Well," said Percy, gloomily, "I might do worse.