Mr. Hardhit. "Don't you think, Miss Highflier, that men look much better in pink--less like waiters?"
Miss Highflier. "Yes, but more like ringmasters--eh?"
[Hardhit isn't a bit offended, but seizes the opportunity.
In mounting your horse, always stand facing his tail.
Second Whip. "G-aw-ne away!"
Middle-aged Diana. "Go on away, indeed! Impertinence! I'll go just when I'm ready!"
Fox-hunter. "Here's a bore, Jack! The ground is half a foot thick with snow, and it's freezing like mad!"
