You know how easily and suddenly these things happen, beginning in playful teasing and ending in something a little warmer than friendship. You squeeze the slender arm which is passed through yours, you venture to take the little gloved hand, you say good night at absurd length in the shadow of the door. It is innocent and very interesting, love trying his wings in a first little flutter.

Of all ghosts the ghosts of our old loves are the worst.

You cannot see the lettuce and the dressing without suspecting a salad.

Desultory readers are seldom remarkable for the exactness of their learning.

I never can resist a touch of the dramatic.

It is, of course, a trifle, but there is nothing so important as trifles.

What one man can invent, another can discover.