ike that," said
Suzanne, "all one's ideas vanish; one doesn't seem to have a desire in
the world. Now it so happens that I have been very keen on a little
Dresden figure that I saw somewhere in Kensington; about thirty-six
shillings, quite beyond my means. I was very nearly describing the
figure, and giving Bertram the address of the shop. And then it suddenly
struck me that thirty-six shillings was such a ridiculously inadequate
sum for a man of his immense wealth to spend on a birthday present. He
could give thirty-six pounds as easily as you or I could buy a bunch of
violets. I don't want to be greedy, of course, but I don't like being
wasteful."

"The question is," said Eleanor, "what are his ideas as to
present-giving? Some of the wealthiest people have curiously cramped
views on that subject. When people grow gradually rich their
requirements and standard of living expand in proportion, while their
present-giving instincts often remain in the undeveloped condition of
their earlier days. Something showy and not-too-expensive in a shop is
their only conception of the ideal gift. That is why even quite good
shops have their counters and windows crowded with things worth about
four shillings that look as if they might be worth seven-and-six, and are
priced at ten shillings and labelled seasonable gifts.'"

"I know," said Suzanne; "that is why it is so risky to be vague when one
is giving indications of one's wants. Now if I say to him: 'I am going
out to Davos this winter, so anything in the travelling line would be
acceptable,' he might give me a dressing-bag with gold-mounted fittings,
but, on the other hand, he might give me Baedeker's Switzerland, or
'Skiing without Tears,' or something of that sort."

"He would be more likely to say: 'She'll be going to lots of dances, a
fan will be sure to be useful.'"

"Yes, and I've got tons of fans, so you see where the danger and anxiety
lies. Now if there is one thing more than another that I really urgently
want it is furs. I simply haven't any. I'm told that Davos is full of
Russians, and they are sure to wear the most lovely sables and things. To
be among people who are smothered in furs when one hasn't any oneself
makes one want to break most of the Commandments."

"If it's furs that you're out for," said Eleanor, "you will have to
superintend the choice of them in person. You can't be sure that your
cousin knows the difference between silver-fox and