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Conger Reynolds correspondence, May 1918
1918-05-01 Conger Reynolds to Daphe Reynolds Page 5
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and 22 1/2 francs for "service par jour." The total is not quite ten dollars in American money. Some difference between that and what the Washington landladies charge! However, there is some difference also between stove, and steam heat, candle light, and gas or electricity, pitcher and washbowl and bathroom. The one thing the French way of taking care of the lodger excels in is service. Every night I leave a pair of muddy shoes, changing them for another pair. When I come home next evening I find the muddy ones have been carefully cleaned and stowed away on the lower shelf of the big wardrobe that reaches to the ceiling and has a long mirror in the door in which I can almost see to brush my hair. After making my morning toilet I leave a dripping washcloth and damp towel and shaving brush. Madame carefully dries all of them and puts them in certain regular places where it appears they belong. Every evening just before the regular time for my arrival she builds a fire in my funny little stove. It is always of four small sticks of wood - which provide just the amount of comfort necessary for the two hours before I take to bed and no more which to the thrifty French mind is luxury enough. I rarely see madame more than once a day. The once is in the morning when she brings about a pint of hot water for my shaving. She hands the pan to me as triumphantly as if she had obtained something very precious for me. It was a bit disconcerting to her at first that I should want hot water. It appears that she
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and 22 1/2 francs for "service par jour." The total is not quite ten dollars in American money. Some difference between that and what the Washington landladies charge! However, there is some difference also between stove, and steam heat, candle light, and gas or electricity, pitcher and washbowl and bathroom. The one thing the French way of taking care of the lodger excels in is service. Every night I leave a pair of muddy shoes, changing them for another pair. When I come home next evening I find the muddy ones have been carefully cleaned and stowed away on the lower shelf of the big wardrobe that reaches to the ceiling and has a long mirror in the door in which I can almost see to brush my hair. After making my morning toilet I leave a dripping washcloth and damp towel and shaving brush. Madame carefully dries all of them and puts them in certain regular places where it appears they belong. Every evening just before the regular time for my arrival she builds a fire in my funny little stove. It is always of four small sticks of wood - which provide just the amount of comfort necessary for the two hours before I take to bed and no more which to the thrifty French mind is luxury enough. I rarely see madame more than once a day. The once is in the morning when she brings about a pint of hot water for my shaving. She hands the pan to me as triumphantly as if she had obtained something very precious for me. It was a bit disconcerting to her at first that I should want hot water. It appears that she
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