human
Can't you imagine the programme if we had gone to an inn? asked Jack, proud of his bride's handiwork.
gpt
We should have walked into a dingy dining-room, with brown wallpaper and four steel engravings of bloodthirsty scenes from the Old Testament. A sleepy head waiter would have looked at me with a polite but puzzled expression, as if at a loss to know why on earth we had come. I should have enquired deprecatingly: 'What can you give us for lunch?' What would he have replied?
human
There's only one possible answer to that conundrum, and it doesn't take any guessing, said I.
gpt
The reply would have been: 'Cold 'am or beef, sir; chops, if you choose to wait.' Those words are probably now being spoken to some hundreds of sad travellers less fortunate than our favoured and sylvan selves.
human
If you would like to have a chafing-dish in your family, remarked Jack,
gpt
I'm no Duke,
human
Earls aren't to be despised, if there are no Dukes handy, said Molly.
gpt
Besides, it's getting a little obvious to marry a Duke.
human
Which is the reason you took up with a chauffeur,
gpt
You call yourself a 'penniless hearl,' went on Molly,
human
It's in pawn, said I.
gpt
It's no joke about being penniless. Jack will tell you I'm obliged to let my dear old house in Oxfordshire, and the only luxuries I can afford are a few horses and a few books. I prefer them to necessities--since I can't have both.
human
Jack told me, she said,
gpt
She can, I replied, emphasising my words with a look in Molly's face.
human
No doubt she often is. But I do wish some American girls who marry men from our side of the water wouldn't let the papers advertise their weddings as 'functions' (sounds like obscure workings of physical organs), attended by the families of their exclusive acquaintance, worth, when lumped together, a billion of dollars or so.
gpt
I know. It's as if they were prize pigs at a fair, and were of no importance except for their dollars, sighed Molly.
human
And then, the detectives to watch the presents! It's disgusting. But some of our newspapers are like Mr. Hyde. Poor Dr. Jekyll can't do anything with him; and anyhow, you needn't think we're all like that. I have a friend who is one of the greatest heiresses in America, but she hates her money. It has made her very unhappy, though she's only twenty-one years old. If you could see Mercédès, with her lovely, strange sad face, and big, wistful eyes----
gpt
I can think of Mercédès only with a shiny grey body, upholstered crimson; and for eyes, huge acetylene lamps,