paper mills and invested great sums in French stocks, in Russian enterprises, in German shares.

She liked to be mistaken for a French woman.

She and Gideon spoke the language like natives — or nearly.

She was vain of Gideon’s un-American looks, and cross with him when, on their rare and brief visits to New York, he insisted that he liked American tailoring and American-made shoes. Once or twice, soon after his father’s death, he had said, casually, “You didn’t like Winnebago, did you? Living in it, I mean.”

“Like it!”

“Well, these English, I mean, and French — they sort of grow up in a place, and stay with it and belong to it, see what I mean? and it gives you a kind of permanent feeling. Not patriotic, exactly, but solid and native heathy and Scots-wha-hae-wi’-Wallace