A very lively young lady sits next to me at the
table, and I worried incessantly at first as to what would happen if her
shoulder-straps should break: but apparently they are stronger than they
look. When they--the girls, I mean--feel a little chilly on deck, they
put on scarves of tulle--a gauzy stuff about half as thick as mosquito
netting. I don't quite see why they're not all dead of pneumonia, but
they seem to thrive.
I've also learned--or am trying to learn--to play a game of cards called
"bridge"; it's along the same lines as good old bid-whist, but
considerably dressed up. I like that, too, but feel pretty stupid at it,
as most of the players can remember every two-spot for six hands back,
and hold dreadful post-mortems of their opponents' mistakes at the end of
the game. I've brought along the old French grammar I had in high school,
as well as some new phrase-books that Mr. Stevens gave me, and take them
to bed with me to study every night, for he told me that you could get
along 'most anywhere if you knew French.
Pages:
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96