yeoldenews:

In the Rachel letter I just finished (from March of 1898), Rachel snuck out of her hotel room in Philadelphia, where she and her
parents were spending the weekend, to go get candy at Huyler’s.

While there she ran into a man she had met briefly at the
theatre the night before. They had been quickly introduced by a mutual acquaintance
on the way out of the performance, but Rachel had failed to catch his name.

The man, seeing her all alone, decided to invite her to join
him for a soda (the late 19^th century equivalent of getting coffee).
Rachel was too polite to decline so she sat through a presumably awkward soda
with the “almost stranger”.

Afterwards he insisted on walking her back to her
hotel and ended up staying for some time more to chat with her in the
parlor. He stayed until Rachel was “crazy trying to talk to him”. When he “Finally”
left Rachel was “so relieved” she ran back upstairs to her hotel room.

She
doesn’t say for certain, but I get the impression she never figured out what
his name was.

I don’t think I’ve ever connected to a Victorian person more than through the mutual experience of trying to get out of on an awkward conversation
with someone whose name you’ve forgotten and then running back to your
room.

The social awkwardness spans centuries.