be perhaps even more insistent about it than Miss Wylie in New York. These are 125 girls of the bourgeoise families, any one of whom, if the great war had not come about, would be this morning going to market with her mother to learn the relative values of the different varieties of soup greens. And this afternoon she would be occupied, needle in hand, on a chemise or a robe de nuit for her trousseau. Now she has been called to a totally new environment. Here she sits on a wooden bench, the sofa pillow she has brought with her at her back, a fountain pen in hand, her note book on her knee, adjusting herself to a career which up to 1914 no one so much as dreamed of for her. She is hearing this morning a lecture on commercial law, delivered by Mme. Suzanne Grinberg, one of Paris' famous lawyers. Le Professeur sits on a high stool before a great walnut table, her shapely hands in graceful gesture accentuating her legal phrases. Every little while you catch the "n'est ce pas?" with which she closes a period. And now and then she turns to the blackboard behind her to illustrate her meaning with a diagram.
Mlle. Sanua passes the school catalogue for my inspection and I notice a course of study that includes: industrial trade marks, designs, etc.; foreign commercial legislation; commercial documents, buying and selling, banking, etc.; bookkeeping, commercial and financial arithmetic; course in merchandising, including textiles, dyes, etc.; political economy, including the distribution of wealth, the monetary systems of the world, the consumption of wealth;
