you think they're right? If you want to enjoy yourself properly you must go to Paris. And, mind you, they've a great feeling for the Irish there. When they heard I was from Ireland they were ready to eat me, man." Little Chandler took four or five sips from his glass. "Tell me," he said, "is it true that Paris is so... immoral as they say?" Ignatius Gallaher made a catholic gesture with his right arm. "Every place is immoral," he said. "Of course you do find spicy bits in Paris. Go to one of the students' balls, for instance. That's lively, if you like, when the cocottes begin to let themselves loose. You know what they are, I suppose?" "I've heard of them," said Little Chandler. Ignatius Gallaher drank off his whisky and shook his head. "Ah," he said, "you may say what you like. There's no woman like the Parisienne -- for style, for go." "Then it is an immoral city," said Little Chandler, with timid insistence -- "I mean, compared with London or Dublin?" "London!" said Ignatius Gallaher. "It's six of one and half-a-dozen of the other. You ask Hogan, my boy. I showed him a bit about London when he was over there. He'd open your eye.... I say, Tommy, don't make punch of that whisky: liquor up." "No, really...." "O, come on, another one won't do you any harm. What is it? The same again, I suppose?" "Well... all right." "Francois, the same again.... Will