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That year it so fell that the winter rains did not close in until late, and Paris reveled in a long autumn of almost New York perfection.Susan and Palmer drove to the Ritz through Paris, the lovely, the gay.

"This is the real thing--isn't it?" said he, thrilled into speech by that spectacle so inspiring to all who have the joy of life in their veins--the Place de l'Opera late on a bright afternoon.

"It's the first thing I've ever seen that was equal to what Ihad dreamed about it," replied she.

They had chosen the Ritz as their campaign headquarters because they had learned that it was the most fashionable hotel in Paris--which meant in the world.There were hotels more grand, the interpreter-guide at Naples had said; there were hotels more exclusive.There were even hotels more comfortable."But for fashion," said he, "it is the summit.

There you see the most beautiful ladies, most beautifully dressed.There you see the elegant world at tea and at dinner."At first glance they were somewhat disappointed in the quiet, unostentatious general rooms.The suite assigned them--at a hundred and twenty francs a day--was comfortable, was the most comfortable assemblage of rooms either had ever seen.But there was nothing imposing.This impression did not last long, however.They had been misled by their American passion for looks.They soon discovered that the guide at Naples had told the literal truth.They went down for tea in the garden, which was filled as the day was summer warm.Neither spoke as they sat under a striped awning umbrella, she with tea untasted before her, he with a glass of whiskey and soda he did not lift from the little table.Their eyes and their thoughts were too busy for speech; one cannot talk when one is thinking.About them were people of the world of which neither had before had any but a distant glimpse.They heard English, American, French, Italian.They saw men and women with that air which no one can define yet everyone knows on sight--the assurance without impertinence, the politeness without formality, the simplicity that is more complex than the most elaborate ornamentation of dress or speech or manner.

Susan and Freddie lingered until the departure of the last couple--a plainly dressed man whose clothes on inspection revealed marvels of fineness and harmonious color; a quietly dressed woman whose costume from tip of plume to tip of suede slipper was a revelation of how fine a fine art the toilet can be made.

"Well--we're right in it, for sure," said Freddie, dropping to a sofa in their suite and lighting a cigarette.

"Yes," said Susan, with a sigh."In it--but not of it.""I almost lost my nerve as I sat there.And for the life of me I can't tell why.""Those people know how," replied Susan."Well--what they've learned we can learn.""Sure," said he energetically."It's going to take a lot of practice--a lot of time.But I'm game." His expression, its suggestion of helplessness and appeal, was a clear confession of a feeling that she was his superior.

"We're both of us ignorant," she hastened to say."But when we get our bearings--in a day or two--we'll be all right.""Let's have dinner up here in the sitting-room.I haven't got the nerve to face that gang again today""Nonsense!" laughed she."We mustn't give way to our feelings--not for a minute.There'll be a lot of people as badly off as we are.I saw some this afternoon--and from the way the waiters treated them, I know they had money or something.Put on your evening suit, and you'll be all right.

I'm the one that hasn't anything to wear.But I've got to go and study the styles.I must begin to learn what to wear and now to wear it.We've come to the right place, Freddie.

Cheer up!"

He felt better when he was in evening clothes which made him handsome indeed, bringing out all his refinement of feature and coloring.He was almost cheerful when Susan came into the sitting-room in the pale gray of her two new toilettes.It might be, as she insisted, that she was not dressed properly for fashionable dining; but there would be no more delicate, no more lady-like loveliness.He quite recovered his nerve when they faced the company that had terrified him in prospect.He saw many commonplace looking people, not a few who were downright dowdy.And presently he had the satisfaction of realizing that not only Susan but he also was getting admiring attention.He no longer floundered panic-stricken; his feet touched bottom and he felt foolish about his sensations of a few minutes before.

After all, the world over, dining in a restaurant is nothing but dining in a restaurant.The waiter and 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.