It is not worth while for me to go into detail regarding such disgusting
acts.

Your imagination, at its most active, cannot do any wrong to the race
which in this war seems determined to offend where it cannot
terrorize.

It is wonderfully characteristic of the French that they have accepted
this feature of their disaster as they have accepted the rest--with
courage, and that they have at once gone to work to remove all the
German "hall-marks" as quickly as possible--and now have gone
back to their fields in the same spirit.

It was not until yesterday that I unpacked my little hat-trunk and
carefully put its contents back into place.

It has stood all these days under the stairs in the salon--hat, cape,
and gloves on it, and shoes beside it, just as I packed it.

I had an odd sensation while I was emptying it. I don't know why I put
it off so long. Perhaps I dreaded to find, locked in it, a too vivid
recollection of the day I closed it. It may be that I was afraid that, with
the perversity of inanimate things, it had the laugh on me.

I don't believe I put it off from fear of having to repack it, for, so
far as I can know myself, I cannot find in my mind any signs, even,
of a dread that what had happened once could happen again. But
I don't know.

I wish I had more newsy things to write you. But nothing is happening