Octavia thinks him delightful. He never appeared for two
days--then he came up as if nothing had happened; only he looks at my hat
or my chin or my feet now and never into my eyes as before, and he calls me
Lady Valmond every other minute--and that is irritating. We shall get in
to-morrow and this will be posted at Sandy Hook, so good-night, dearest
Mamma.
Your affectionate daughter,
ELIZABETH.
PLAZA HOTEL, NEW YORK
PLAZA HOTEL,
_NEW YORK._
Dearest Mamma,--We are here now, so this is where to address your letters.
We went to another hotel first but we could not stand the impudence of the
servants, and having to shout down the telephone for everything instead of
ringing a bell--and here it is much nicer and one is humanly waited on.
America is too quaint. Crowds of reporters came on board to interview us!
We never dreamed that they would bother just private people, but it was
because of the titles, I suppose. Tom was furious but Octavia was
delighted. She said she wanted to see all the American customs and if
talking to reporters was one of them, she wanted that, too. So she was
sweetly gracious and never told them a word of truth.
They were perfectly polite, but they asked direct questions, how we liked
America (we had not landed!), how long we were going to stay, what was our
object in coming there, what we thought of the American divorce, etc.
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