We can bear up against depression; but it's hard on
my little girl. I say little; but she's twenty. We send her
visiting to escape it. She almost lived at hotels and hydros,
last year, but that isn't pleasant for her. She used to be a
canary--a perfect canary--always singing. You ought to hear her.
She doesn't sing now. That sort of thing's unwholesome for the
young, ain't it?"
"Can't you get rid of the place?" I suggested.
"Not except at a sacrifice, and we are fond of it. Just suits us
three. We'd love it if we were allowed."
"What do you mean by not being allowed?"
"I mean because of the depression. It spoils everything."
"What's it like exactly?"
"I couldn't very well explain. It must be seen to be appreciated,
as the auctioneers say. Now, I was much impressed by the story
you were telling just now."
"It wasn't true," I said.
"My tale is true. If you would do me the pleasure to come down
and spend a night at my little place, you'd learn more than you
would if I talked till morning.
Pages:
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330