What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. She uttered a little ejaculative note of joy and rushed to the bed. “I am delighted to see you, Mr. "Mercy on us! what have I said!" cried the attendant, greatly alarmed by the agitation of her mistress; "do sit down, your ladyship, while I run for the ratifia and rosa solis. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. A tall, clean-shaven man came out and walked rapidly through the room, exchanging greetings right and left, but evidently anxious to avoid being detained.
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