noon
In a vague way she realised that she was seeing Paris as a blind man sees the sun -- feeling its warmth , conscious of its white light beating on the eyeballs , but never actually beholding its golden glory . This was Sophy Gold 's first trip to Paris , and her heart and soul and business brain were intent on buying the shrewdest possible bill of lingerie and infants ' wear for her department at Schiff Brothers ' , Chicago ; but Sophy under-estimated the powers of those three guiding parts . While heart , soul , and brain were bent dutifully and indefatigably on the lingerie and infants ' - wear job they also were registering a series of kaleidoscopic outside impressions . As she drove from her hotel to the wholesale district , and from the wholesale district to her hotel , there had flashed across her consciousness the picture of the chic little modistes ' models and _ ouvrières _ slipping out at noon to meet their lovers on the corner , to sit over their _ sirop _ or wine at some little near-by café , hands clasped , eyes glowing . Stepping out of the lift to ask for her room key , she had come on the black-gowned floor clerk , deep in murmured conversation with the valet , and she had seemed not to see Sophy at all as she groped subconsciously for the key along the rows of keyboxes . She had seen the workmen in their absurdly baggy corduroy trousers and grimy shirts strolling along arm in arm with the women of their class -- those untidy women with the tidy hair . Bareheaded and happy , they strolled along , a strange contrast to the glitter of the fashionable boulevard , stopping now and then to gaze wide-eyed at a million-franc necklace in a jeweller 's window ; then on again with a laugh and a shrug and a caress .