Fitzgerald
5th October 11
Electric fans blew the smell of peaches and hot biscuit and the cindery aroma of travelling salesmen through the New Willard halls in Washington.
The nights, smelling of honeysuckle and army leather, staggered up the mountainside and settled upon Mrs. Edith Wharton’s garden.
A lone lady in tweeds drank martinis in the dingy bar.
- from “Show Mr. and Mrs. F to Number—”
