Rupert Hughes

“ We've all been abroad, and met the male or female loafer who settles down on eight hundred dollars a year, calls himself a gentleman and does nothing but drink other people's tea. But in America it's suspicious. I'll bet he's a gambler or a promoter or something shady."
"Look here, Ned, do you think it's manly to run down a rival behind his back?"
"No; I don't think it's at all manly, but I think it's all-fired human. I love you, Gwen, and you prefer him. That drives me crazy and I don't care what I say about him. I only wish I could think of worse things than I do." ”

“ So many roses, you know—bushels of them, like cabbages. They must have cost you a pretty penny—a small fortune."
"Not at all. They cost me nothing."
"How did you get 'em—steal 'em?"
"Not at all."
"Well, you're certainly making up for lost time, Newman. Only a few minutes ago, Gwen—er—Miss Norbrook was commenting on the fact that you had never sent her any flowers."
"Really? Did she think it was strange? Did she disapprove?"
"No; she didn't disapprove exactly; she just commented on it, that's all. Most men who send a girl anything at all send her roses, you know." ”

“ The minute that sort of man is introduced to a girl he rushes out and buys her something. It's Christmas every day with him."
"A woman appreciates those little attentions, Ned."
"Attentions! They're nothing but tips. Men give those things to women to make 'em a little politer—as they slip a quarter to a waiter in the hope of getting some nearly-fresh eggs in the omelet or some coffee in the coffee. And you women are flattered by it instead of insulted!"
"Oh, I know you don't like Mr. Newman. ”