Now I Must Give One Smirk And

I Do Suspect That He Is Not Really Necessary To My Happiness.

I Begin Already To Weigh My Words And Sentences More Than I Did, And Am Looking About For A Sentiment, An Illustration, Or A Metaphor In Every Corner Of The Room. Could My Ideas Flow As Fast As The Rain In The Storecloset It Would Be Charming.

This Was A Lucky Recollection -- It Saved Her From Something Like Regret.

She Told The Story, However, With Great Spirit Among Her Friends; For She Had A Lively, Playful Disposition, Which Delighted In Any Thing Ridiculous.

She Looked Back As Well As She Could; But It Was All Confusion. She Had Taken Up The Idea, She Supposed And Made Everything Bend To It.