A woman may choose any one for her lover, but for her friend she makes no mistake. One gets a lot more fun married. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. “Why can’t we propagate by sexless spores, as the ferns do? We restrict each other, we badger each other, friendship is poisoned and buried under it!. " "Jack, my love," cried Mrs. ‘Of course I see that,’ she said impatiently. He has often told me that if he could play sober, he would go to America and reap a fortune. “Shut up, you little faggot. We can’t. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street.
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