And so, my dear Jane, I have fallen from my pedestal, in your estimation. Yet, having carefully regarded myself in the mirror, and finding no discolorations, and feeling no wounds or contusions, I think my pedestal must have been very near the earth, else I would be conscious of some bruises.
And now, Jane, to be frank, I am very glad to be off my perch.
I do not want to dwell upon a pedestal.
It necessitates a monotonous life, and it is an unsocial position.
I prefer to walk on the earth, among my fellow creatures.
You were greatly shocked, I saw, when I told my little Russian guest that she might light her cigarette in my boudoir. Your sudden departure told its own story, and your letter was no surprise. But I am glad you wrote me so frankly, as it gives me the opportunity to be equally frank.
There is nothing more beneficial, in true friendship, than a free exchange of honest criticisms.
You tell me that I lowered my standard by lending countenance to a pernicious and unladylike habit. You felt I owed it to myself, as a good woman, and to my home, as a respectable house, to show my unswerving principles in this matter, and to indicate my disapproval of a disgusting vice, which is growing in our midst.
Life is too short, my dear Jane, in which to achieve all our ideals, and to arrive at all our goals.
I have learned the futility of attempting to reform the whole world in one day. And I have also learned that there are more roads than one, to all destinations.