We seek him here, we seek him there,
Those Frenchies seek him everywhere.
Is he in heaven? - Is he in hell?
That damned elusive Pimpernel?

It is only when we are very happy that we can bear to gaze merrily upon the vast and limitless expanse of water, rolling on and on with such persistent, irritating monotony, to the accompaniment of our thoughts, whether grave or gay.

To love, for us men, is to clasp one woman with our arms, feeling that she lives and breathes just as we do, suffers as we do, thinks with us, loves with us, and, above all, sins with us.

I sometimes wish you had not so many lofty virtues.... I assure you little sins are far less dangerous and uncomfortable."

An apology? Bah! Disgusting! Cowardly! Beneath the dignity of any gentleman, however wrong he might be."