loving the life, while the mere mention of it gave Rocky a tired feeling; yet here is a letter I wrote to a pal of mine in London:
“ Dear Freddie —Well, here I am in New York. It’s not a bad place. I’m not having a bad time. Everything’s pretty all right. The cabarets aren’t bad. Don’t know when I shall be back. How’s everybody? Cheer-o!
Not that I cared about Ted; but if I hadn’t dragged him in I couldn’t have got the confounded thing on to the second page.
Now here’s old Rocky on exactly the same subject:
“ Dearest Aunt Isabel —How can I ever thank you enough for giving me the opportunity to live in this astounding city! New York seems more wonderful every day.
“Fifth Avenue is at its best, of course, just now. The dresses are magnificent!”
Wads of stuff about the dresses. I didn’t know Jeeves was such an authority.
“I was out with some of the crowd at the Midnight Revels the other night. We took in a show first, after a little dinner at a new place on Forty-third Street. We were quite a gay party. Georgie Cohan looked in about midnight and got off a good one about Willie Collier. Fred Stone could only stay a minute, but Doug Fairbanks did all sorts of stunts and made us roar. Diamond Jim Brady was there, as usual, and Laurette Taylor showed up with a party. The show at the Revels is quite good. I am enclosing a programme.
“Last night a few of us went round to Frolics on the Roof—”