far as the crowded boulevards and the
beguiling shops, which she did not dare to enter for fear she should
yield to temptation. Once she had a venture that was exciting. She was
followed all the way from the Rue Royale to the Rue Galilee by a man,
who tried to speak to her as she neared the pension, so that she fairly
ran to shelter. She decided not to tell Jack of her little adventure,
for he would be severe with her and have his prejudices confirmed. She
rather enjoyed the excitement of it all, and wouldn't have minded
repeating it, if she could be sure of escaping in the end without
trouble....

She read some books which her husband got for her,--those breakfast-food
culture books provided for just such people, about cities and monuments
and history. She was supposed to "read up" about Rome and Florence,
where they hoped to go in the spring. But books tired Milly very soon:
the unfamiliar names and places meant nothing at all to her. She decided
that, as in most cases, one had to have money and plenty of it to enjoy
Europe,--to travel and live at the gay hotels, to buy things and get
experiences "first hand." Evidently it was not for her, at present.

What she liked best in her life this first winter were the Sunday
excursions they made to Fontainebleau, St. Germain, Versailles, and St.
Cloud, and other smaller places where the people went. She liked the
mixed crowds of chattering French on the river boats and the third-class
trains,--loved to talk with the women and children in her careless
French, and watch their foreign domesticities.... Best of all, perhaps,
were the walks in the Bois with her husband, where she could see the
animation of the richer world. On their way back they would often stop
at Gage's for cakes and mild drinks. All the pastry-shops fascinated
Milly, they were so bright and clean and _chic_. The efficiency of
French civilization was summed up to her in the _patisserie_. She liked
sweet things and almost made herself ill with the delectable concoctions
at Gage's. That more than anything else this first year came to typify
to her Paris,--the people, men as well as women, who came in for their
cakes or syrop, the eagle-eyed _Madame_ perched high at the _comptoir_,
holding the entire business in her competent hand, and all the deft
girls in their black dresses, nimbly serving, _"Oui, Madame! Voici,
Monsieur! Que desirez-vous?"_ etc. She admired the neat glass trays of
tempting sweets, the round