ur private lives by "One Who Knows."

All the history of the little dancer Ottalie Cheveny was tacked on to
Octavia's past! The name sounding something the same is quite enough reason
for its being Octavia's story here! Tom is having this one put with his
collection for the smoking-room, because he says when Octavia "fluffs"
(that, I think, means "ruffles") him, he will be able to look up at it and
think of "what might have been!"

I am said to be here while a divorce is being arranged by my family because
Harry has gone off to India with a fair haired widow!!! Think, Mamma, of
his rage when I send him a copy. Isn't it lovely?

We are enjoying ourselves more than I can say, and they are perfect dears,
most of the people who entertain us;--so gay and merry and kind;--and we
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