very glad to accept. She was my first American friend, and remains among my very best.
We had only been a few months in New York when my Greek friends were obliged to return to Turkey. I resolved to remain behind. I must confess at once that I did so out of pride alone. New York had frightened me more than the capture by the brigands, the earthquake, and an Armenian massacre in which I once found myself, all put together. Yet to go back was to admit that I had failed, that the world had beaten me, and after only a very few months.
I had just sixty dollars, and my courage—robbed a little of its effervescence. Since I had had only two English lessons a week, and no practice whatever, because all the people we met spoke French to us, my vocabulary was very limited, but I managed to get about pretty well. Once in a shop I asked for "half past three sho-es," and obtained them without trouble.
Before my friends left New York for Constantinople they gave me a certificate saying that I was qualified to be a governess—for which I was really as qualified as to drive an engine. Since I had had no chance to modify my opinion about the origin of Americans, I still looked upon them as inferiors, and considered myself quite good enough for them. Taking a small room in a small hotel, I applied to an agency for a position. It did not prove quite so easy to
