"To have reached thirty," said Reginald, "is to have failed in life."

Put that bloody cigarette out!

I found everyone talking nervously and feverishly of the weather and the war in South Africa, except Reginald, who was reclining in a comfortable chair with the dreamy, far-away look that a volcano might wear just after it had desolated …

We all know that Prime Ministers are wedded to the truth, but like other married couples they sometimes live apart.

I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to be living apart.

Reginald in his wildest lapses into veracity never admits to being more than twenty-two.

It is an admitted fact that the ordinary tomtit of commerce has a sounder aesthetic taste than the average female relative in the country.