human
I'm glad you like it, she returned.
gpt
I've always thought it rather telling myself--an improvement on Mrs. Willie Onions, anyhow. Oh! yes, a vast improvement, she repeated.
human
My friend was quite right. I tell you it's an awful handicap to have a name which gives you away socially. The man, the husband, I mean, may be the best of the good. Still, it's difficult to forgive him for labelling you with some stupidity like that. There's no getting away from it. You feel like a bottle of pickles, or boot-polish, or a tin of insecticide whenever a servant announces you. Everybody knows where you do--and don't--come in. But, to go on, I am barely three--only I fancy you are the sort of person who is rather rough on lying, aren't you? Well, in that case, quite between ourselves--I am just turned nine-and-twenty.