“Why do you keep a canary?” ask one gentleman of one lady.
“Because I have no room for a parrot,” say one lady to one gentleman.
And so onward.
My cookery is deliciously abominable, thank you, in that 1-8 size kitchen. Yet those N. Y. persons is so refined they can disguise any taste by politeness.
“You have a chef, I suspect?” require one brokerish gentleman gnawing my chicken crokets.
“Two of them,” deceive Mrs Jinx with 5th Ave expression. I arrive to room looking proud with dishes. “This Togo are my faithful butler inherited from my grandfather who was a lawyer and kept many retainers.”
I am alarmed to hear such large conversation in such small space. And yet I acted very intelligent, considering my stupidity.
My life in that compartment become more and more homeless as time relapsed. Hon. Mrs Jinx were the most stay-away lady I ever seen. She say she go out to get the air; and I could not blame her. For 2 entire weeks she was somewheres else all time. In early a. m. after 10 o’clock she go down town for get hats, manicure & other jewelry. By noon she telephone, “I shall not be home lunch, because I am too busy wasting time with Mrs Swatts-Byng.” By night she telephone, “I shall not be home dinner, because I am taking my Husband to eat at Astoria hotel, afterwards we shall go see musical-comical theater.”
Lonesomeness arrived to me as much as that apartment would hold. It were true I could breathe more with less persons taking up room; yet my thoughts became all by themselves. I feel like Hon. Robinson Caruso on a vacant island.