There is not much romance here. I don't see how they ever get in love.
How could one get in love with a young man whom one romped with and
danced with, till his face became dripping, and his collar limp; whom
one saw when one wanted to without any restrictions, and altogether
treated like a big brother? I suppose getting "crazy" about a person is
as near being in love as they know. Each country has its ways, but I
like romance.
Their astounding adaptability is what strikes one--the women's I mean.
The ones who have been to Europe only on trips even, have all acquired
a more reserved tone and gentler voices, while the girls who went to
school in Paris or have lived in England are wonders of brilliant
attraction. I do not know if any of those would make a noise and
rough-house. They would be clever enough to choose their time and place
if they did.
The children skate on roller skates along the streets, and on the
asphalte paths of the parks. There is a delightful happy-go-lucky-way
about everything. In the country trains cross the roads with no gates
to keep people off the track, and in every branch of life you have to
look out for yourself and learn self-reliance.
We are so amused because Octavia is considered to have "an English
accent," and mine not so strong, the papers say.
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