I feel so busy and so self-respecting--independence agrees with me. You see, with my few hundreds from father, and these letters, and the little income Roger got for me, with the principal put away for the children, I shall do very well indeed and owe "nothing to nobody." And when Susy gets old enough, I'm going to have her taught something--trade or profession, _n'importe!_--that will make her as independent as I am to-day. I think it is criminal not to. Then she needn't marry unless she wants to. I wonder if you realise how many women marry to get away from home? Few men do, I imagine. It's not particularly flattering to you, _messieurs_, but it's the truth. I had four sisters, and I know! You have heard, I suppose, that Margarita is actually in training for the opera? It was very exciting--Mme. M----i is really at the bottom of it, I think, though everybody agrees with her to this extent: the child really has extraordinary talent, and with her face and figure will be sure of success, one would think. Of course her voice is not phenomenal--I doubt if it is big enough for the New York opera house. How Frederick used to rail at that building! They wanted him to play there once, you know, at some big benefit. He always said no respectable human voice could be judged there--it seems the acoustics is wrong. But it is an exceptionally fine voice, nevertheless, and so pure and unspoiled. She had nothing to unlearn, literally, and her acting, Madame says, is superb. She can memorise anything, and in such a short time! But for a Bradley! Madame is furious that she is married. There are plenty to have babies and live in America, she says, without her little Marguerite! _M. le mari_ does not appreciate what a jewel he wishes to shut up, she says--but I am not so sure of that! Whether he is really going to let her or is only humouring her, I don't know. It is rather an embarrassing situation, _au fond_, because you know what she is--calm, lovely, enchanting--what you will, but absolutely immovable! Reasoning has no effect upon her, and then, to tell the truth, she has reasons of her own. Her desire for this is very strong, and her affection for Roger is not strong enough, apparently, to make her sacrifice herself. Do you think she has any soul, really? I mean, what we understand by that--something that takes more than two years of ordinary life to grow. Passionate, yes. Intelligent, yes. But a real soul? _Je m' en doute._ "Of course I love Roger, Sue," she said to me, "but why should I not do what I want to just because I love him? I can love him and sing, too." Then Miss Jencks advances to the fray, with pleasant platitudes about giving up what we like for those we love.