But their salon was large and beautifully furnished,
their meals were cooked by a French chef, every one, from the lordly
porter to the quick-footed chambermaid, served them with a courteous
interest, and Mrs. Cliff said that although their life in the two hotels
seemed to be in the main the same sort of life, they were, in reality, as
different as an old, dingy mahogany bureau, just dragged from an attic,
and that same piece of furniture when it had been rubbed down, oiled, and
varnished. And Ralph declared that, so far as he knew anything about it,
there was nothing like the air of Paris to bring out the tones and
colorings and veinings of hotel life. But the greatest difference between
the former and the present condition of this little party lay in the fact
that in San Francisco its principal member was Mrs. Philip Horn, while in
Paris it was Miss Edna Markham.
This change of name had been the result of nights of thought and hours of
consultation. In San Francisco Edna felt herself to be Mrs. Horn as truly
as if they had been married at high noon in one of the city churches, but
although she could see no reason to change her faith in the reality of
her conjugal status, she had begun to fear that Captain Horn might have
different views upon the subject. This feeling had been brought about by
the tone of his letters. If he should die, those letters might prove that
she was then his widow, but it was plain that he did not wish to impress
upon her mind that she was now his wife.
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