Ada kissed me.
I had no charming manner in receiving a kiss before the people no more than in giving one. I blushed miserably. I knew I was bungling.
O Morning Glory, you are one century late!
They besieged me.
None of them was so pretty as Ada. Beauty is rare, I perceive, like good tweezers or ideal men.
I distributed my Japanese cards.
All of my new friends held them upside down.
Is it a modern vogue to be ignorant?
Ada played skilfully her role of hostess, which was a middle-aged part. She didn’t even spill the tea in serving. Her “Sugar? Two lumps?” sounded fit. She divided her entertaining eye-flashes among us.
Tea is the thing for afternoon, when woman is excused if she be silly.