r husband, after a warm argument with her on the new
treatment of an old disease, asked her why she did not study medicine.
She had ample leisure, no children, and, he added gallantly, a mind to
do it justice.

The suggestion horrified her, as it would have horrified her large
family connection and circle of friends in that provincial town where
standards are as slowly undermined as the cliffs of France by the
action of the sea.

Shortly afterward they moved to Paris, where her husband, being a man
of first-rate ability and many friends, soon built up a lucrative
practice.

Being childless, full of life, and fond of variety, they spent far
more money than was common to their class, saving practically nothing.
They had a handsome apartment with the usual number of servants;
Madame Pertat's life was made up of a round of dressmakers, bridge,
calls during the daytime, and companioning her husband at night to any
one of the more brilliant restaurants where there was dancing.
Sometimes they dined early and went to the opera or the play.

Suddenly the really serious mind of this woman revolted. She told me
that she said to her husband: "This is abominable. I cannot stand this
life. I shall study medicine, which, after all, is the only thing that
really interests me."

She immediately entered upon the ten years' course, which included
four years as an interne. France has now so far progressed that she
talks of including the degree of baccalaureate in the regular school
course of women, lest they should wish to study for a profession
later; but at that time Madame Pertat's course in medicine was long
drawn out, owing to the necessity of reading for this degree.

She was also obliged to interrupt her triumphal progress in order to
bring her first and only child into the world; but finally graduated
with the highest honors, being one of the few women of France who have
received the diploma to practice.

To practice, however, was the least of her intentions, now that she
had a child to occupy her mind and time. Then, abruptly, peace ended
and war came. Men disappeared from their usual haunts like mist. It
was as if the towns turned over and emptied their men on to the
ancient battlefields, where, generation after generation, war rages on
the same historic spots but re-naming its battles for the benefit of
chronicler and student.

M. le Docteur Pertat was mobilized with the rest. Madame's bank
account was very slim. Then