“And why not?”
“Oh, because they are all so dreadfully wicked.”
“Who says so?” asked the lady, amazed.
“The books, ma’am.”
“What books?”
“The penny books and Sunday papers.”
When looking back on my delightful American trips and to my real good time there, one little crumpled rose-leaf returns to memory, which, at the time, was a minor annoyance, but since has often caused me to smile at its absurdity.
Many and weird, truly, are the experiences and home truths one is vouchsafed while travelling.