8th—My darling O Ada came in a carriage. Her two-horsed carriage was like that of our Japanese premier.
She is the daughter of a banker.
The sun shone in yellow.
Ada’s complexion added a brilliancy. I was shocked, fearing that I looked awfully brown.
Ada said that I was “perfectly lovely.” Can I trust a woman’s eulogy?
I myself often use flattery.
A jewel and face-powder were not the only things, I said, essential to woman.
We drove to the Golden Gate Park and then to the Cliff House.
What a triumphant sound the hoofs of the bay horses struck! I fancied the horses were a poet, they were rhyming.
I don’t like the automobile.