Sana spent the winter with Mrs. O’Brien, a winter that sped quickly, broken up as it was with trips to Boston, Washington, Cleveland, Chicago and other American cities, as well as a protracted stay at Atlantic City--the year round pleasure resort. In this way Sana came to know America better than most Americans do in a lifetime. With the spring came a desire to return to Paris. Her friends did what they could to dissuade her, but to no avail. So reluctantly they consented. Mr. O’Brien insisted that the day before sailing be spent at Coney Island. Sana must see it, he told Mrs. O’Brien when she frowned down the suggestion. She knew that he was just as anxious for himself as for Sana, but she at last consented--thankful, in her heart, that he had made the suggestion, because it was years since she had been there and though she would not admit it, it was only her “state of mind” that kept her from going there before. But of course, he mustn’t know just how she felt about it. There was no happier crowd at the Island that day than their little party. They “shot the chutes”--got lost in the maze, and did all the things they thought they never would do--but that’s the spirit of the Island. In like spirit they joined the multitude in eating the famous “hot dog and sauerkraut,” or as Mr. O’Brien called it, “liberty cabbage.” He regretted this remark, because his better half broke in with “I suppose in the broadmindedness you have acquired since the war you call these frankfurters ‘liberty dogs.’ Don’t you have enough liberties forced down your throat without applying them to your food? Put some mustard on your liberties and the dogs will taste better.” The following day the O’Briens accompanied Sana to the steamship pier to say “goodbye.” Parting they exacted a promise that she would soon return to America and visit them. Readily Sana agreed, little dreaming of how the riddle of her life was to be solved by the Fates that guide us from the cradle to the grave. CHAPTER IV IN SPORTING EUROPE It was evening when Sana arrived in Paris. The weary railroad trip from the seaboard had made her rather tired, so instead of looking around for less expensive accommodations she went at once to the Hotel Mercedes, facing the Place de l’Etoile. In her room, she spent the next hour or so removing the stains of travel and then, fresh as a rose, set forth to satisfy the cravings of hunger that were making themselves quite apparent. She gave the hotel dining-room but a passing glance. No, that would not do. Paris already had her in its grip! She must seek gayety and refreshment. Ah! The very place. The Café de Paris. Here she would surely meet someone of past acquaintance. For the Café was noted for the pleasure it afforded and also for the excellence of the food. Some friend of hers would surely be there.