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Los ^Angeles — -from a Bungalow Qourt
the back door to the road and vice versa. For hours I sat stretched on the lawn, reading or making notes for On Wandering Wheels, but even from this point of vantage I could not come to know our neighbours by sight. Opposite was a young girl student of the California University ; she passed to and fro from lessons bearing books ; with her we exchanged smiles and an occasional word, but for the rest the court might have been almost deserted. Nobody ever tried to take advantage of the green grass or the warm air ; few visitors ever passed under the black-and-orange archway of the entrance, but if ever they did the whole court was aware of their arrival, for the shrieks and cries of enthusiastic welcome were enough to have sufficed for the reappearance of a long-lost Uncle Jim from Australia. One man did call at intervals upon our hostess and was welcomed with a strident shriek of " Come right in ! " Indeed, we were almost on the edge of suspecting the near presence of an illicit romance. This was dashed on learning that he was only the real estate broker engaged in augmenting their already not inconsiderable fortune. The truth is the people seemed to venture rarely into the open air. If they wished to go out they slipped from the back door to the garage, shut themselves primly into a closed car, and drove away. If they wished to do the family shopping they drove into large openair grocery shops, specially arranged so that they could select their provisions without getting out of the car. If they wished for distraction they drove to the sea or up into the hills and stared at the view through the wind-shield. They seemed to be almost as destitute of permanent friends as they were of personal furniture ; the wireless, the car, the daily newspaper, or the Saturday Evening Post, work, cooking, and 1 studying how to stay thin ' seemed to fill their lives to the full. There was no reason to believe that our bungalow court differed much from the thousands of bungalow courts,
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