"I much prefer the Italian Riviera," chimed Miss Wells's high-pitched voice. She made it a point of honour to differ with everybody. "At Bordighera, Ospedaletti, San Remo, and Alassio you have much better air, the same warmth, and at about half the price. The hotels in Nice and Cannes are simply ruinous." Then, turning to Mrs Anson, she added, "You know, dear, what you said last year." "We go to the Grand, at Nice, always," answered Mrs Anson. "It is dear, certainly, but not exaggeratedly so in comparison with the other large hotels." "There seems of late to have been a gradual rise in prices all along the Riviera," remarked Hickman. "I've experienced it personally. Ten or twelve years ago lived in Nice for the season for about half what it costs me now." "That exactly bears out my argument," exclaimed the Irritating Woman, in triumph. "The fact is that the French Riviera has become far too dear, and English people are, fortunately for themselves, beginning to see that by continuing their journey an extra twenty miles beyond Nice they can obtain just as good accommodation, live better, breathe purer air, and not be eternally worried by those gaudy tinsel-shows called Carnivals, or insane attempts at hilarity miscalled Battles of Flowers." "Oh, come, Miss Wells," protested Mabel, "surely you won't condemn the Battles of Flowers at Nice! Why, they're acknowledged to be amongst the most picturesque spectacles in the world!" "I consider, my dear, that they are mere rubbishy ruses on the part of the Nicois to cause people to buy their flowers and throw them into the roadway. It's only a trick to improve their trade." We all laughed. "And the Carnival?" inquired Hickman, much amused. "Carnival!" she snorted. "A disgraceful exhibition of a town's lawlessness. A miserable pageant got up merely to attract the unsuspecting foreigner into the web spread for him by extortionate hotel-keepers. All the so-called fun is performed by paid mountebanks; the cars are not only inartistic, but there is always something extremely offensive in their character, while the orgies which take place at the masked balls at the Casino are absolutely disgraceful. The whole thing is artificial, and deserves no support at all from winter visitors." Mrs Anson, for once, did not agree with this sweeping condemnation, while Mabel declared that she always enjoyed the fun of the battles of flowers and paper confetti, although she admitted that she had never had the courage to go out on those days when the pellets of lime, or "harp confetti," are permitted. Both Hickman and myself supported Mabel in defence of the annual fetes at Nice as being unique in all the world.