If she had changed at all, it was that, since her marriage to the silent Algernon, she had become even more talkative than she had been in her girlhood.
Her vivacity was as disturbing as the incessant buzzing of a June beetle.
"Well, you need never tell me again that you wouldn't rather live in New York, Gabriella," she fluted at parting, "because I shan't believe a single word of it.

Why, we've been to the theatre every night for a fortnight, and we haven't seen half the good plays that are going on.
Algy wanted to stay at Niagara Falls--you know we went to Niagara Falls first--but it was so deadly quiet I couldn't stand it.

'I don't care if I am married,' I said to Algy, 'what I want is the theatre.'" After she had gone, adoringly wrapped up by Algernon, Patty turned to her mother with a little malicious grimace: "I know it's horrid to say she's dreadful, mamma, but she really is." "Don't, Patty, it isn't kind, and, besides, she's a friend of Gabriella's.

What I can't understand," she added, "is how Bessie ever came out of Virginia, yet there were always a few like her.

You don't remember Pussy Prime, do you?
Of course you don't, she died long before your day, but she was just that loud, boisterous kind, and all the men were in love with her." "Well, if I'm ever born again," remarked Gabriella, as she kissed Patty good-night, "I hope I'll be born a fat blonde.