"But I don't regret the past few months. New York is very interesting, and I'd dearly love to talk it over with you. It is a sort of a stock-pot; everything goes in--good meat, and bones, and scraps of all sorts--and you never know just what the flavor will be like, but it's sure to be rich and stimulating and unexpected. I've been to very exclusive houses here sometimes, and I enjoyed that immensely; I think I could learn easily to live up to any income, no matter how big it was. I've been mostly in the society absurdly called the Four Hundred; it used to be called the Upper Ten Thousand; there are pleasant men and women there, and dull ones too, just as there are everywhere else, I suppose. And I've even gone a little into artistic and literary circles--but I don't really like untidy people. "You see, I am here at the newest and swellest hotel. It's true I have only a tiny little parlor and a teeny little bedroom, 'way up near the top of the house, with a room in the attic somewhere for my maid Jemima--you remember Jemima? Well, she's watching over me still, and she's the only real friend I have in all New York! She'd give me all her savings gladly if I was mean enough to take them; but I couldn't live on that pittance, could I? "I brought very good letters, and I had very good advice from an old maid who knew George's father when he was a boy--Miss Marlenspuyk; dear old soul she is. Then, as it happened, somebody remembered that poor George had been interested in that strike in Grass Valley, and had received one-third of the stock when the Belinda and the Lone Star were consolidated. I've got that stock still, and I could paper a house with it--if I had one. At any rate, somebody started the story that I was immensely rich, and of course I didn't contradict it, I hope I've too much tact to refuse any help that chance throws in my way. I don't know whether it was the reported wealth, or the excellent letters I brought, or Miss Marlenspuyk's good advice, or even my own personal attractiveness--but, whatever the cause, I just walked into Society here almost without an effort; so easily, indeed, that the social strugglers who have seen doors open wide for me where they have been knocking in vain for years--well, they are mad enough to die! It's enough to make us despise ourselves even more than we do when we see the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth there is among the outsiders who are peeking over the barbed-wire fence of Society! I'm afraid I've been horrid enough to get a good deal of satisfaction out of the envy of those outside the pale.