My attention was first attracted to him by the ring of his voice as he answered the question a woman near me put to him, amiably trying to start a conversation: "And may I ask, Mr. Williams, what are you in France for, Red Cross, or Y.M.C.A., or perhaps reconstruction work? I'm refugees, myself. It's always interesting to know other people's specialties. You often have so much in common. The only branches I _don't_ know anything about are orphans and the blind." To this the distinguished-looking, gray-haired man responded gravely, "Madame, I am in France for hats." "_Hats!_" exclaimed the war-worker. "Hats," he reaffirmed quietly. She looked at him wildly and moved to another part of the room towards a recognizably tagged young woman in a gray uniform. The timbre of his voice struck curiously on my ear. I cannot express its quality other than to say it made the voices of the rest of us sound like those of college professors and school-teachers; and I don't pretend to know exactly what I mean by that. He aroused my curiosity. I wanted to investigate, so I began looking vague, letting my eyes wander, and answering at random. Presently the earnest talker holding forth to me grew indignant at my lack of attention, broke off abruptly, and went away. I turned to the man with the different voice and asked, "What in the world makes you come to France for hats, _just now_ in the midst of the war?" He answered with instant decision, "Because the only hats worth buying are made in Paris." "_Now?_ with France bleeding to death, how _can_ they make hats, invent new fashions!" His eye kindled. "Madame, a good French modiste on her deathbed could make a better hat than any one in New York ever could." I pondered this. His accent was indubitably American, not to say New York. But there are cases of French people who have spent part of their childhood in the States who speak perfectly. "You must be at least partly of French extraction to be able so to understand and admire France," I ventured. He opposed a rather startled and very emphatic negative. "Me? Not much! I'm as American as they make 'em. Born on lower Broadway and brought up in the New York public schools. I don't know anything about France, except that we have to come here to get the right styles in hats. I don't even speak any French except to say '_combien_' and enough to count." I was put off the scent entirely. "Oh, I thought from the way you spoke that you knew France well. This is your first visit, then?" He was silent a moment, making a mental calculation. Then he said: "This is my fifty-first visit to Paris. I have come twice a year for a little more than twenty-five years." "Always for hats?" I queried, my imagination reeling at this vista. "Always for hats," he said seriously. I tried to be facetious. "Dear me! You must know all there is to know about hats."