DAY BY DAY We rearranged the house.

We did not alter the general arrangement, nor the places of the heavy furniture--that would have been too great a change.

But we cast out all the dusty old stuff, the fossilized and worthless knick-knacks that Mame had accumulated.

The photographs on the walls, which were dying of jaundice and debility, and which no longer stood for anybody, because of the greatness of time, we cleared out of their imitation tortoiseshell and buried in the depths of drawers.
I bought some furniture, and as we sniffed the odor of varnish which hung about for a long time in the lower room, we said, "This is the real thing." And, indeed, our home was pretty much like the middle-class establishments of our quarter and everywhere.

Is it not the only really proud moment here on earth, when we can say, "I, too!" Years went by.