keeps anything to her gossipy self. She
answered: "If I had said that I had seen you there, I would have had to
explain my own presence in the park, and I never incriminate myself."
She says that "there are two new kinds of monkeys out there and one
looks like Elbert Hubbard--sits all day surrounded by his hair."

She's running a bar in connection with her tea table now, which is
equivalent to putting salt on the tail of the social male bird. She can
hardly believe that she's free, and says that it will take some time for
her to realize "that there aint no beast." Isn't it strange that the
most fascinating lover in the world can turn into the veriest beast
within six months after he has hit you on the head and dragged you
senseless into his Fifth Avenue home? Of course you're senseless or you
would not have tied up.

Phyllis says that she has gotten out of the habit of decent food, that
every time she really dines, she gets strange pains in her underneath. I
wish I could fly back home, but I must grit my teeth and get rid of my
beast too. I wonder which breed I'll try next time. Boston Bull, I
suppose, I think that's where Carlton was first kenneled.

I have a large stove in my sitting-room and keep it going myself.
Othello looks as though he'd laugh himself to death every time I put
coal on--darn his pelt! He's crazy over Sioux Falls--possibly because
there are seven dogs to the city block. He goes away on bridal tours
every few days and then I have to get out a search warrant. I could live
quite decently if I did not have to invest in so many rewards for him.

It is so terribly cold here that my very thoughts are frozen and my
hot-water bag does nightly service. The thing sprung a leak last week
and I took it to a garage to ask if they would mend it, and the fellow
answered: "Certainly, madam, we have quite a trade in hot-water bottles
and "nature's rivals."" I have also found out that the only place to buy
burnt wood is at Mr. Trepaning's the undertaker and embalmer.

All the stiff and crackling branches of the trees are weighted down with
a three-inch ruching of snow. It is all silently fascinating, especially
so because since starting this letter two short raps at my window
announce Carlton who comes each night to accompany me to the late post
after the landlady is snoozing. His arms are around me as I scrawl, and
the thousand tiny little thrills that answer so eagerly to his
nearness, assure me that it is not