"Consider--!"

"Well, who is; but who has good music, and amuses
people on Sunday evenings, when the whole of New
York is dying of inanition."

"Good music? All I know is, there was a woman
who got up on a table and sang the things they sing at
the places you go to in Paris. There was smoking and
champagne."

"Well--that kind of thing happens in other places,
and the world still goes on."

"I don't suppose, dear, you're really defending the
French Sunday?"

"I've heard you often enough, mother, grumble at
the English Sunday when we've been in London."

"New York is neither Paris nor London."

"Oh, no, it's not!" her son groaned.

"You mean, I suppose, that society here is not as
brilliant? You're right, I daresay; but we belong here,
and people should respect our ways when they come
among us. Ellen Olenska especially: she came back to
get away from the kind of life people lead in brilliant