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Five hundred dollars was a lot of money in those days. I had missed the historic arrival but for the rest of the time Lindbergh stayed in Paris, a week or two, I felt as though I were living in his pocket. I hardly let him out of my sight, unless he were in bed or the bathroom, about the only places where he could enjoy a little privacy. The adulation must have been more of an ordeal than the ���ight. When I arrived at the embassy for Lindbergh���s ���rst formal press conference, I found the street outside the building besieged by heroworshipers hoping to catch a glimpse of their idol as he passed in or out. The crowd would thin out as the days passed, but a hard core remained there as long as Lindbergh stayed in Paris. As I entered the embassy, Lindbergh was descending the stairs between Herrick, who had imprisoned the ���ier���s right arm under his own, and the representative of the Ryan airplane company, which had built the Spirit of St. Louis, in similar possession of his left arm. Lindbergh looked as if he were being led to the electric chair between two husky guards. He was, indeed, about to be thrown to the hounds���the pack of reporters who jammed the entrance hall. The ���rst question came, idiotic but inevitable: ���What do you think of Parisian women?��� ���I haven���t seen any yet,��� Lindbergh said, which was his last contribution to the conversation except for the syllable ���Uh.��� This I took to be in the nature of a clearing of the throat, preparatory to developing the theme further, but he was never given a chance to do so. If a question HYLAND 17