“All nice girls sketch a little.”

“I love that girl, Bertie," he went on, when he'd finished coughing."Yes. Nice girl, of course."He eyed me with deep loathing."Don't speak of her in that horrible casual way. She's an angel. An angel!”

“I'm much too much the popular pet ever since I sang 'Every Nice Girl Loves A Sailor' at the village concert last year. I had them rolling in the aisles. Three encores, and so many bows that I got a crick in the back.""Spare me the tale of your excesses," I said distantly."I wore a sailor suit.""Please," I said, revolted.”

“I may be wronging her, but I have an idea that she's the sort of girl who would want a fellow to carve out a career and what not. I know I've heard her speak favourably of Napoleon. So what with one thing and another the jolly old frenzy sort of petered out, and now we're just pals. I think she's a topper, and she thinks me next door to a looney, so everything's nice and matey.”

“I'm not much of a ladies' man, but on this particular morning it seemed to me that what I really wanted was some charming girl to buzz up and ask me to save her from assassins or something. So that it was a bit of an anti-climax when I merely ran into young Bingo Little, looking perfectly foul in a crimson satin tie decorated with horseshoes.”

“He was one of those supercilious striplings who give you the impression that you went to the wrong school and that your clothes don't fit."This is Oswald," said Bingo."What," I replied cordially, "could be sweeter? How are you?""Oh, all right," said the kid."Nice place, this.""Oh, all right," said the kid."Having a good time fishing?""Oh, all right," said the kid.Young Bingo led me off to commune apart."Doesn't jolly old Oswald's incessant flow of prattle make your head ache sometimes?" I asked.Bingo sighed.”

“A girl who bonnets a policeman with an ashcan full of bottles is obviously good wife-and-mother timber.”