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 rest of the world from its own province, excludes itself from the rest of the world."

Mme. Momoro clapped her hands. "Bravo! You say it as if at some time you must have written it and committed it to memory." And when he blushed in some confusion, "Never mind," she said consolingly, "it is quite true that the provincial excludes himself. You worship cosmopolitanism then?"

"Not worship," he rejoined, "and not exactly cosmopolitanism. But I do like a little sophistication in the people I associate with."

"But sophistication is always provincial."

"What!" he cried. "It's always the reverse."

"No; because nobody can know intimately a great deal about the whole world. The greatest cosmopolitan knows a little about a great many parts of it and can adapt himself to many kinds of people; but in his one lifetime he can't become a sophisticate among these Kabyles and among the Esquimaux and the Patagonians and Samoans and Javanese and Japanese and Russians and Portuguese and Chinese and Sicilians and Spanish and the French and Germans and Italians and English and Americans. A lifetime isn't long enough, my friend. You have told