Manchurian Books

"
I come now to the next day. How true it is, that "Man's
life is but a jest, a dream, a shadow, bubble, air, a vapour at
the best!"
I spent the morning with mother at the dressmakers and she
chose two perfectly spiffing things, one of white chiffon over
silk, made modafied Empire, with little bunches of roses here
and there on it, and when she and the dressmaker were hagling
over the roses, I took the scizzors and cut the neck of the
lining two inches lower in front. The effect was posatively
impressive. The other was blue over orkid, a perfectly
passionate combination.
When we got home some of the girls had dropped in, and
Carter Brooks and Sis were having tea in the den. I am perfectly
sure that Sis threw a cigarette in the fire when I went in. When
I think of my sitting here alone, when I have done _nothing_,
and Sis playing around and smoking cigarettes, and nothing said,
all for a difference of 2O months, it makes me furious.
"Let's go in and play with the children, Leila," he said.
"I'm feeling young today."
Which was perfectly silly. He is not Methuzala.


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