I Do Not Want A Boy. I

The Marquis Believed Himself To Be Hardened Against Flattery. He Thought That He Had Experienced Every Variety, But He Discovered That He Was Mistaken: The Blatantly Worshipful Look In The Eyes Of A Twelve-year-old, Anxiously Raised To His, Was New To Him, And It Pierced His Defences.

[...]my Memory Is Reasonably Good—unlike Yours, Dear Sir!” “mine Is Erratic,” He Said Imperturbably. “i Remember Only What Interests Me.

Don't You Dare Call Me Arrogant!if Ever I Had Any At All-which I Deny!- How Much Could I Possibly Have Left After Having Been Ridden Over Rough-shod By You And Thomas, Do You Imagine?

I Think Myself I Ought To Be Shot For Writing Such Nonsense.... But It's Unquestionably Good Escapist Literature And I Think I Should Rather Like It If I Were Sitting In An Air-raid Shelter Or Recovering From Flu.

You Will Like Her," He Persisted. "egad, She's After Your Own Heart, Maman! She Shot Me In The Arm." "voyons, Do You Think That Is What I Like?