are growing quite accustomed to the voices and the odd grammar and
phrasing. At first you get a singing in your head from the noise of a room
full of people speaking. They simply scream, and it makes a peculiar echo,
as if the walls were metal. Everyone talks at once, and no one ever listens
to anything the person near them says.

A ladies' lunch is like this: Octavia and I arrive at a gorgeous mansion,
and are ushered into a marvellous Louis XV. morning room, with wonderful
tapestry furniture and beautiful pictures arranged rather like a museum.
There is never a look of the mistress of the house having settled anything
herself, or chosen a pillow because the colours in a certain sofa required
it; or, in fact, there is never the expression of any individuality of
ownership; anyone could have just such another house if he or she were rich
enough to give carte blanche to the best antique art shop; but the things
all being really good and beautiful do not jar like the mixture at the
Spleists did. Often whole rooms have been brought out, just as they were,
from foreign palaces, panelling, pictures and all, and it gives such a
quaint sense of unreality to feel the old atmosphere in this young,
vigorous country. The hostess's bedroom and boudoir and bath room are often
shown to us, and they are all masterpieces of decoration and luxury; and I
can't think how they can keep on feeling as good as gold in them! Perfectly
lovely luxurious surroundings always make me long for Harry to play with,
or some other nice young man--did not they you, Mamma, when you were young
and felt things?

About twenty other women are probably there besides us, all dressed in the
most expensive magnificent afternoon frocks; and they all have lovely
Cartier jewelled watches, and those beautiful black ribbon and diamond
chains round their necks, like Harry gave me last birthday. No one wears
old fashioned or ugly jewels, all are in exquisite taste, while the pearls