"I declare," she said, "that's positively the most ridiculous thing I ever saw a man dressed in." At the Savoy hotel in August, 1914, when England declared war upon Germany, many American women made scenes of confusion and vociferation.
About England and the blast of Fate which had struck her they had nothing to say, but crowded and wailed of their own discomforts, meals, rooms, every paltry personal inconvenience to which they were subjected, or feared that they were going to be subjected.

Under the unprecedented stress this was, perhaps, not unnatural; but it would have seemed less displeasing had they also occasionally showed concern for England's plight and peril.
An American, this time a man (our crudities are not limited to the sex) stood up in a theatre, disputing the sixpence which you always have to pay for your program in the London theatres.

He disputed so long that many people had to stand waiting to be shown their seats.
During deals at a game of bridge on a Cunard steamer, the talk had turned upon a certain historic house in an English county.

The talk was friendly, everything had been friendly each day.
"Well," said a very rich American to his English partner in the game, "those big estates will all be ours pretty soon.

We're going to buy them up and turn your island into our summer resort." No doubt this millionaire intended to be playfully humorous.
At a table where several British and one American--an officer--sat during another ocean voyage between Liverpool and Halifax in June, 1919, the officer expressed satisfaction to be getting home again.