I'll take Mollie and go." "I would," replied Mrs.Walraven, cheerfully.

"It's a nice, unhealthy climate; and then, when you are a widower--as you will be, thanks to yellow fever--come back to dear New York.

There's no place like it.

And now, my dear Guy, I don't wish to be rude, you know, but if you would depart at once, you would very much oblige me." Mrs.Walraven stood up, walked over to the whole-length mirror, and took a prolonged and complacent view of her full-blown charms.
"How do you think I am looking, Guy ?" languidly.

"Rather too pale, am I not?
I must have recourse to that vulgar necessity, rouge.