However, it was not so much
her jewelry that proved such a fascinating sight as it was her
pleasing habit of fetching out a gold-mounted toothpick and exploring
the most remote and intricate dental recesses of herself in full
view of the entire dining room, meanwhile making a noise like
somebody sicking a dog on.
The Europeans have developed public toothpicking beyond anything
we know. They make an outdoor pastime and function of it, whereas
we pursue this sport more or less privately. Over there, a toothpick
is a family heirloom and is handed down from one generation to
another, and is operated in company ostentatiously. In its use
some Europeans are absolutely gifted. But then we beat the world
at open-air gum-chewing--so I reckon the honors are about even.
This particular hotel, in common with all other first-class hotels
in Paris, was forgetful about setting forth on its menu the prices
of its best dishes and its special dishes. I take it this arrangement
was devised for the benefit of currency-quilted Americans. A
Frenchman asks the waiter the price of an unpriced dish and then
orders something else; but the American, as a rule, is either too
proud or too foolish to inquire into these details. At home he
is beset by a hideous fear that some waiter will think he is of a
mercenary nature; and when he is abroad this trait in him is
accentuated.
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