"Why, I want to buy some nice things for my wife. Something the real
thing from Paris, you know. I came over from London on purpose. But
Lord,"--again wiping his brow--"a fellow doesn't know where to
_go_."

"Oh well," sighed Virginia, long-sufferingly, "I see I'll just have
to take you. There doesn't seem any way out of it. It's evident you
can't go _alone_. _Seven hundred francs_!"

"I suppose it was too much," he conceded meekly. "I tell you I
_will_ be grateful if you'll just stay by me a little while. I
never felt so up against it in all my life."

"Now, a very nice thing to take one's wife from Paris," began
Virginia didactically, when they reached the sidewalk, "is lace."

"L--ace? Um! Y--es, I suppose lace is all right. Still it never
struck me there was anything so very _lively_ looking about
lace."

"'Lively looking' is not the final word in wearing apparel,"
pronounced Virginia in teacher-to-pupil manner. "Lace is always in
good taste, never goes out of style, and all women care for it. I
will take you to one of the lace shops."

"Very well," acquiesced he, truly chastened. "Here, let's get in
this cab."

Virginia rode across the Seine looking like one pondering the