In order to show it I had to go and buy it, and in order to buy it I had to scare up some money, which is no mere child’s play in Gay Paree these days. I called on four people before I found one who was touchable. With what he grudgingly forked over I hastened to the booking office and felt at home there, it being on Rue Scribe. There was a customer ahead of me⁠—our president’s youngest son-in-law.

“Do you know who that was?” said the agent excitedly when the young man had departed.

“Yes,” I replied, “but we don’t speak to each other.”

“Now,” said the agent, “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you a few questions. It’s annoying, I know, but it’s the wartime rule.”

“Shoot,” I told him. “I’m thoroughly used to being annoyed.”

He ran through the familiar list and saved a new one for the windup.