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I have a friend here, an old friend, who, in refreshing contrast with the majority of the human race, possesses strongly marked characteristics. He knows exactly the sort of life that suits him, and exactly what he likes. He is not, as Mr. Enfield said, one of the fellows who go about doing what is called "good." But he contrives to give a great deal of happiness without having any programme.
Madame is going to spend a fortnight in the country because the doctor orders it. In short, she goes where she likes and does what she likes. Is it possible that there can be a husband so brutal as to oppose such desires, by hindering a wife from going to seek a cure for her cruel sufferings?
Feraud had been visibly annoyed at being called away. That was natural enough; no man likes to be disturbed in a conversation with a lady famed for her elegance and sensibility. But in truth the subject bored Madame de Lionne, since her personality could by no stretch of reckless gossip be connected with this affair.
Perhaps this is true, but the giving up of tea or coffee will never cure the ills that come from lack of exercise, loss of fresh air, over-eating, and over-indulgence. The mere fact that a person is giving up something that he likes does not make him immune to the penalties which he incurs day after day by other offenses against the laws of Nature.
"I give you my word I did n't. It 's the law of attraction, don't you see?" "If Fan likes it, I don't care." "She looks resigned, I think." She certainly did, for she was talking and laughing in the gayest manner with Frank while Sydney was covertly surveying Polly as if he did n't quite understand how the gray grub got so suddenly transformed into a white butterfly.
You see, I value her friendship and I have the highest respect for her... and all the rest of it... but I couldn't make such a blunder. I don't contradict her, for, as you know yourself, it's dangerous to contradict her. I may have dropped a word to her, for I know she likes that, but to suppose that I mentioned names to her as I have to you or anything of that sort! My good sir!
Always wiz him eet is ze knife or ze club and now eet is ze rifle. COCHON! W'en I fight, I fight wiz what le bon Dieu give me." "You appear to have a certain code, after all," Bryce laughed. "I am inclined to like you for it. You're sporty in your way, you tremendous scoundrel!" "Mebbeso," Rondeau suggested hopefully, "M'sieur likes me for woods- boss?" "Why, what's the matter with Pennington?
"I should not know what to do with them," he said, "if they were not to a certain extent mediocre in mind and character." As to his generals, he admits himself that "he likes to award fame only to those who cannot stand it." In any event, "he must be sole master in making or unmaking reputations," according to his personal requirements.
A large dish of rice and minced mutton is placed on the table, and immediately every hand is thrust into it; and in a moment it is empty. Then another dish is brought, and another; and sometimes fourteen dishes of rice, one after the other, till all the company are satisfied. They eat very fast, and each retires from dinner as soon as he likes, without waiting for the rest.
Higby's arms to look at the round red cheeks and bright eyes. "Oh, Mrs. Higby! and you're just as nice!" With that she clasped her impulsively around the neck. "And Pickering likes you too, Mrs. Higby," continued Phronsie, "he says you're as good as gold." "You don't say so!" cried Mrs.
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