turning their genius to account through the entertainment bureaus, it's
impossible to have a salon now."

"You are indeed right," said Madame Récamier, sadly. "Those were palmy
days when genius was satisfied with chicken salad and lemonade. I shall
never forget those nights when the wit and wisdom of all time
were--ah--were on tap at my house, if I may so speak, at a cost to me of
lights and supper. Now the only people who will come for nothing are those
we used to think of paying to stay away. Boswell is always ready, but you
can't run a salon on Boswell."

"Well," said Portia, "I sincerely hope that you won't give up the
functions altogether, because I have always found them most delightful. It
is still possible to have lights and supper."

"I have a plan for next winter," said Madame Récamier, "but I suppose I
shall be accused of going into the commercial side of it if I adopt it.
The plan is, briefly, to incorporate my salon. That's an idea worthy of an
American, I admit; but if I don't do it I'll have to give it up entirely,
which, as you intimate, would be too bad. An incorporated salon, however,
would be a grand thing, if only because it would perpetuate the salon.
'The Récamier Salon (Limited)' would be a most excellent title, and,
suitably capitalized, would enable us to pay our lions sufficiently.
Private enterprise is powerless under modern conditions. It's as much as I
can afford to pay for a dinner, without running up an expense account for
guests; and unless we get up a salon trust, as it were, the whole affair
must go to the wall."

[Illustration: MADAME RÉCAMIER HAS A PLAN]