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Friday, April 25- 1913

My peaches sweet:

Wednesday night I went to dine Laura Jean Libbey. She didn’t know me from Adam’s off ox and all the while (I went with a newspaper friend) called me Mr. Caeser, which I refused to correct or allow to be corrected. Short, stout, red headed (brick red), genial, skittish, 53,— that is Laura Jean. She lives in Brooklyn. Her house is a fright— stuffed with all the old dull stuff for which Brooklyn is noted. There is two billion dollars worth of junk masquerading as furniture and art in Brooklyn. I expected to see a landscape with a mother-of-pearl moon set in the sky (real mother of pearl) but I escaped that. Yet they had Champagne, $7,50 Victorola records, a library of dictionary sized volumes of history. Police!

— from Letters to Women: New Letters, Volume 2, edited by Thomas P. Riggio  (University of Illinois Press, 2008)

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