I sat down and wept like the women of Babylon.

_Quel horreur!_ My locks were strained, brushed, tightened back, and
I was left high and dry with my exposed brow revealing four furrows to
an unsympathetic world. _C'est navrant_. We're not to be allowed even
the _soupçon_ of a wave or the lightest _bouffée_, while side-curls
are quite _démodés_.

I think the situation is really tragic. So few women can afford to
have a forehead. The result will be that lots of our _débutantes_ of
some seasons ago will be "_coiffées à Ste. Catherine_" in more senses
than one.

The "jewellery" one wears now is made of wood; we have carved wooden
beads, wooden bracelets, even wooden rings. "Therefore it will be
cheap!" you exclaim. _Vous vous trompez, mon amie._ I read a story
the other day of an American who said that if you want an egg here
for breakfast it is cheaper to buy the hen and hope she'll lay next
morning, and in any case you've got the hen. _Eh bien_, should you
desire a set of wooden jewellery you might save money if you bought a
forest.

Paris has done more than extend _le bon accueil_ to the Peace
delegates; she is giving their names to the latest thing in
_vêtements_. Thus we have the Lloyd George _cravate_, the Wilson
_gilet_ and the "Bonarlaw" _chapeau melon_. It's surprising how
far-reaching are the effects of a Peace Conference.

A number of _nous autres Anglais_ over here started a perfectly
_thrilling_ idea. It was really in the way of being an adventure. We