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"Lanny, that's a horrid view to take of people!"

"You can save yourself a lot of unhappiness by taking my word about Europe. I have lived here

most of my life." Lanny might have added: "Remember Ettore!" But he rarely permitted himself

to mention the dashing Italian duca with whom she had once fancied herself in love.

"But, Lanny, we have been living off the Robins for nearly five months! Am I never going to

spend any of my own money?"

"If your conscience worries you, give Freddi a good check for his new school. Nothing will

please Johannes more."

"But if he wants that done, why doesn't he do it himself?"

"I think he may be afraid to; it would make too many enemies. But if you do it, he will have

an alibi."

"Is he really that much of a coward, Lanny?"

The young husband chuckled. "Again I tell you, take my word about Europe!"

II

The German-Jewish money-lord had several of his guest-suites opened up, dusted, aired,

and supplied with fresh flowers. He would have had them redecorated if there had been time.

The one assigned to Irma and Lanny had a drawing-room with a piano in it; also a bedroom,

dressing-room, and bath for each. Each dressing-room had a clothes closet which was almost a

room and would hold all the imitations of Paris costumes which the couturiers of Berlin might

persuade Irma to purchase. She didn't have gold bathroom fixtures and Lanny didn't have

silver—one had to go to America for styles such as that; but they had drawings by Boucher and

Fragonard, Watteau and Lancret on their walls, and Lanny knew these were genuine, for he

and Zoltan had purchased them and divided a ten per cent commission. Irma found that

rather embarrassing, but Lanny said: "It was what enabled me to dress properly while I was

courting you!"

Next door to their suite was one for the baby and the dependable Miss Severne. Feathers had

been telegraphed for, and was on hand to take charge of Irma's affairs: writing her letters,

paying her bills, keeping track of her appointments. Johannes had provided an English-

speaking maid, ready to serve her from the moment of her arrival; indeed, he would have

ordered a baby giraffe from the Hagenbeck zoo if he had thought that would have added to her

happiness.

Feathers had only to telephone to the steward's office downstairs and a car would be at the

door in a minute or two. There were theaters, operas, concerts, and cabaret entertainments for

every sort of taste, high or low. The palace was in the fashionable district, convenient to

everything, so the two young mothers had no trouble in keeping their schedules; lying back in

the cushions of a limousine, they had time to recover from any excitement and thus avoid

displeasing the head nurse. Their babies, being so well cared for, rarely cried at night, and,

anyhow, that was the night nurse's affair. In the early morning hours this nurse would steal

into Irma's bedroom, bringing Baby Frances for her first meal, and Irma would suckle her

while still half asleep. Oh, yes, modern science can make life pleasant for those fortunate ones

who have the price! Fond dreamers talk about making it that way for everybody, but the

daughter of a utilities magnate would repeat an ancient question: "Who will do the dirty

work?" She never found out who would, but she knew quite certainly who wouldn't.

Each member of the visiting party had his or her own idea of happiness. Miss Severne

inquired concerning the English church in Berlin, and there she met persons near enough to

her social station so that she could be happy in their company. Mr. Dingle discovered a New

Thought group with a lecturer from America, and thus was able to supply himself with the

magazines he had been missing. It is a fortunate circumstance about Christian Science and

New Thought publications, that dealing with eternal truths they never get out of date. The only

trouble is that, saying the same things, they are apt to become monotonous. Undeterred by

this, Mr. Dingle began escorting Madame to a spiritualist church; they knew only a few words

of the German language, but the spirits were international, and there were always living

persons willing to help two foreigners.

III

The great city of Berlin, capital of the shattered Prussian dream. Triumphal arches, huge

marble statues of Hohenzollern heroes, palaces of old-time princes and new-time money-

lords; sumptuous hotels, banks that were temples of Mammon, department stores filled with

every sort of luxury goods—and wandering about the streets, hiding in stone caves and cellars,

or camping out in tents in vacant spaces, uncounted hordes of hungry, ill-clothed, fear-driven,

and hate-crazed human beings. Out of a population of four million it might be doubted if there

were half a million really contented. There was no street where you could escape the sight of

pinched and haggard faces; none without beggars, in spite of the law; none where a well-

dressed man could avoid the importunities of women and half-grown children, male or female,

seeking to sell their bodies for the price of a meal.