The mischief is done, and the next thing is to mend it as well as we can.

If I could only get within arm's-length of that husband of yours, Valeria--There! there! God forgive me, I am forgetting that I am a clergyman.

What shall I forget next, I wonder?
By-the-by, your aunt sends you her dearest love.

She is more superstitious than ever.

This miserable business doesn't surprise her a bit.