Kendall was frightfully embarrassed, especially when he heard the room laugh until the dishes rocked. He was angry, but before he could give vent to his anger his eye encountered Maude Knox, mirthful tears rolling down her cheeks. Then he himself laughed, if a bit ruefully. Jacques threw himself into a seat across the table and began talking in his wild way to Maude Knox, who spoke French very well indeed. There was no need for introductions here. Jacques never thought of such a thing and Maude appeared perfectly willing to forgo the ceremony. Kendall was rather out of it temporarily. He looked across at Monsieur Robert, who was bobbing his head and laughing and writing on the back of a _carte de jour_.... Then he arose and handed it to Kendall. Monsieur had a trifle of English of which he was very proud, and this communication, relating to Jacques, was couched in that language. Ken read it and then laughed in real earnest, for it made this rather amazing announcement: “It is not a bad boy, but he is a few mad!” What more could one ask of a single sentence? “If you are looking for something un-American you get it here,” he said to Maude. “I like it.... I’m enjoying every second of it,” she said, delightedly. “They’re just like children.” “But Jacques here has an artificial leg, a silver plate in the crown of his head, the Médaille Militaire and the Croix de Guerre,” he said. Jacques, meantime, had possessed himself of Monsieur Robert’s note and, leaping to his feet, was heaping scorn and derision on the young actor’s head, while Monsieur Robert feigned terror and made as though he would hide under the table. “Are they always like this,” Maude asked, “or is it relief—now that Paris seems to be safe?” “They are always so,” he said. “I envy them.... But it couldn’t happen in America, could it? Imagine this in Cleveland or Detroit. Why, everybody would be put out by the management, or the police would be called in! And why?... I’m learning a lot since I came to France.... There’s something in the very air here. One could do things never dreamed of at home.... I don’t know what it is, but that’s the way I feel. Maybe it is the freedom from restraint, maybe it’s the example, maybe it is that the war is so tremendous that nothing a single individual can do is of the least importance.... But the feeling is there. Other girls have told me the same thing.” “Paris does get you,” said Ken. “Things don’t seem to matter,” she said, thoughtfully. “It’s like being in a different world where none of the old rules hold good.... I can’t imagine myself talking like this or feeling like this. I couldn’t have a month ago.... I think,” she said, with a little laugh, “that I shall have to keep my head very level.” Ken was astonished. So the thing was getting Maude Knox, too! She saw a difference, felt a difference, felt the challenge of a difference! “It gets you.... It gets you,” he said, helplessly.