"My journal!"

"Yes, I know exactly what you will say: Friday, went to the Lower
Rooms; wore my sprigged muslin robe with blue trimmings -- plain
black shoes -- appeared to much advantage; but was strangely harassed
by a queer, half-witted man, who would make me dance with him, and
distressed me by his nonsense."

"Indeed I shall say no such thing."

"Shall I tell you what you ought to say?"

"If you please."

"I danced with a very agreeable young man, introduced by Mr.
King; had a great deal of conversation with him -- seems a most
extraordinary genius -- hope I may know more of him. That, madam,
is what I wish you to say."

"But, perhaps, I keep no journal."

"Perhaps you are not sitting in this room, and I am not sitting by
you. These are points in which a doubt is equally possible. Not
keep a journal! How are your absent cousins to understand the
tenour of your life in Bath without one? How are the civilities and
compliments of every day to be related as they ought to be, unless
noted down every evening in a journal? How are your various dresses
to be remembered, and the particular state of your complexion, and
curl of your hair to be described in all their diversities, without