The small, slender woman with apple-red cheeks, greying hair, and shrewd, almost naughty little eyes sat with her face pressed against the cabin window of the BEA Viscount on the morning flight from London to Paris.

She stood there rocking back and forth, holding and embracing her dress, and with it she was hugging them all, Madame Colbert, Natasha, André Fauvel, down to the last anonymous worker, seamstress, and cutter, as well as the city that had bestowed upon her such a priceless memory, treasure of understanding, friendship, and humanity.

US title 'Mrs 'Arris Goes to Paris', UK title 'Flowers for Mrs Harris'