A stocky Detroit businessman, middle-aged and raring for a night on the town, dropped his room key at the desk of the Hotel Continental in Paris' Rue de Castiglione. In his mailbox, as in those of hundreds of other Americans in Paris last week, was a letter. "The enclosed wallet-size 'protection card,' " it said, "comes to you with the compliments of the American Hospital of Paris, which for nearly half a century has been a feature of American life in this city . . . The hospital is yours."
The Detroiter blinked at...
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