The whole attitude of the Frenchman toward life has undergone a change, first under the stress of ruthless war, and under the spur of his kindling desire for rehabilitation.  Formerly, for example, the French loathed to travel.  When he knew he was going away on a journey, he spent a month telling his relatives good-bye.  Now he packs his bag and is off in an hour to Lyon, Marseilles, Bordeaux, or any other place where business might dictate.

The new and efficient French industrial machine is not the only factor that American business in France must reckon with after the war.  The French woman is fast becoming a force, thus setting up an altogether unequal and almost unfair competition, because to shrewd wit and resource is added the power of sex and beauty.

In France, as most people know, the woman exerts an enormous influence, regardless of her social class.  In all regulated bourgeois families the wife holds the purse strings; in the small shops she keeps the cash and runs things generally.  No average Frenchman would think of embarking on any sort of enterprise without first talking it over with his femme, who is also his partner.  This team work lies at the root of all French thrift.

The woman of the lower class has met the grim emergency of war with sacrifice and courage.  Not only has she faced the loss of those most dear with uncomplaining lips, but she has taken her man’s place everywhere.  You can see her standing Amazon-like in leather apron pouring molten metal in the shell factory; she drives you in a cab or a taxi; she runs the train and takes the tickets in the Underground:  in short, she has become a whole new asset in the human wealth of the nation and as such she will help to make up for the inevitable shortage of men.

Her sister of the upper class, at once the most practical and most feminine of her sex, is also doing her bit.  She is the lovely thorn in the path of the American business promoter in France.

Before the war, it was rare to find this type of woman competing with men in outside business affairs, although her influence has always counted immensely in official life where she pulls the strings to get husband or lover Government preferment or concession.

Since the war, however, necessity has sharply developed her latent business qualities.  Now it is not unusual to find her in direct competition, using all those delightful charms with which Nature has endowed her.  This is especially true of widows and women whose husbands are at the front.  They often rely more upon persuasion than upon any technical or practical knowledge.  One reason why they succeed is their almost uncanny knowledge of men.  And this often enables them to grasp swiftly the clue that business opportunity offers.

One night at dinner a Colonel’s widow, a gracious and beguiling lady, heard that the French Government was in the market for 50,000 head of cattle.  The next morning she sent half a dozen cables to South America, got options, and in three days her formal bid was at the War Office.  Within a week she had the contract.