The City seems so much more in earnest: its business, its rush, its roar are such serious things, sights and sounds. The City is getting its living - the West-End but enjoying its pleasure.
But what is so headstrong as youth? What so blind as inexperience?
Who has words at the right moment?
What have I to do with millions [of people]? The eighty I know despise me.
Tact, if it be genuine, never sleeps.
I doubt if I have made the best use of all my calamities. Soft, amiable natures they would have refined to saintliness; of strong, evil spirits they would have made demons; as for me, I have only been a woe-struck and selfish woman.