happened to her. It was then that she really seemed for the first time to find herself. It was this way.”

And Mrs. Tully went on to sketch the year of travel in Europe, the resumption of Paula’s painting in Paris, and the conviction she finally reached that success could be achieved only by struggle and that her aunt’s money was a handicap.

“And she had her way,” Mrs. Tully sighed. “She — why, she dismissed me, sent me home. She would accept no more than the meagerest allowance, and went down into the Latin Quarter on her own, batching with two other American girls. And she met Dick. Dick was a rare one. You couldn’t guess what he was doing then. Running a cabaret — oh, not these modern cabarets, but a real students’ cabaret of