We cried in hugging.
We shall not see each other for some time,—maybe never again!
Ada!
O Ada San!
3rd—This afternoon!
Eastward, ho, ho!
Overland Train, March 4th
“Madame Butterfly” lay by me, appealing to be read.
“No, iya, I’ll never open! I erred in buying you,” I said.
I dislike that “Madame.” It sounds indecent ever since the “gentleman” Loti spoiled it with his “Madame Chrysanthème.”