the head waiter
spoke English, were gracefully, tactfully, polite; and as he
ordered he found his self-confidence returning with the
surging rush of a turned tide on a low shore. The food was
wonderful, and the champagne, "English taste," was the best he
had ever drunk. Halfway through dinner both he and Susan were
in the happiest frame of mind. The other people were drinking
too, were emerging from caste into humanness. Women gazed
languorously and longingly at the handsome young American; men
sent stealthy or open smiles of adoration at Susan whenever
Freddie's eyes were safely averted. But Susan was more
careful than a woman of the world to which she aspired would
have been; she ignored the glances and without difficulty
assumed the air of wife.

"I don't believe we'll have any trouble getting acquainted
with these people," said Freddie.

"We don't want to, yet," replied she.

"Oh, I feel we'll soon be ready for them," said he.

"Yes--that," said she. "But that amounts to nothing. This
isn't to be merely a matter of clothes and acquaintances--at
least, not with me."

"What then?" inquired he.

"Oh--we'll see as we get our bearings." She could not have
put into words the plans she was forming--plans for educating
and in every way developing him and herself. She was not sure
at what she was aiming, but only of the direction. She had no
idea how far she could go herself--or how far he would consent
to go. The wise course was just to work along from day to
day--keeping the direction.

"All right. I'll do as you say. You've got this game sized
up better than I."

Is there any other people that works as hard as do the
Parisians? Other peoples work with their bodies; but the
Parisians, all classes and masses too, press both mind and
body into service. Other peoples, if they think at all, think
how to avoid work; the Parisians think incessantly, always,
how to provide themselves with more to do. Other peoples
drink to stupefy themselves lest peradventure in a leisure
moment they might be seized of a thought; Parisians drink to
stimulate themselves, to try to think more rapidly, to attract
ideas that might not enter and engage a sober and therefore
somewhat sluggish brain. Other peoples meet a new idea as if
it were a mortal foe; the Parisians as if it were a long-lost
friend. Other peoples are agitated chiefly, each man or
woman, about themselves; the Parisians are full of their work,
their