Possibly you know the type I am
describing--the lady who, when planning where she will spend the
summer, sends for catalogues from all the leading sanatoriums.
We had one such person with us.
She had been surgically remodeled so many times that she dated
everything from her last operation. At least six times in her
life she had been down with something that was absolutely incurable,
and she was now going to Homburg to have one of the newest and
most fatal German diseases in its native haunts, where it would
be at its best. She herself said that she was but a mere shell;
and for the first few meals she ate like one--like a large, empty
shell with plenty of curves inside it.
However, when, after a subsequent period of seclusion, she emerged
from her stateroom wearing the same disheveled look that Jonah
must have worn when he and the whale parted company, do you think
she would confess she had been seasick? Not by any means! She said
she had had a raging headache. But she could not fool me. She
had the stateroom next to mine and I had heard what I had heard.
She was from near Boston and she had the near-Boston accent; and
she was the only person I ever met who was seasick with the broad
A.
Personally I abhor those evasions, which deceive no one. If I had
been seasick I should not deny it here or elsewhere. For a time
I thought I was seasick.
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