It must be explained that Margaret is living in England with her father’s family. She is being educated with a little cousin her same age. They share a French governess, have a villa at Cannes in the winter, riding, swimming, gymnasium and special dancing classes. A house with a garden in London, dogs, rabbits, horses and birds, Rolls Royce cars, servants to wait, party frocks, lessons in deportment, and all the things that are necessary, I am told, to the perfect bringing up of a proper little girl. Not good for her, they assure me, wild trips to Mexico, wild talk about Russia, Americanization in New York, studio environment of her mother. These things are possible (though not desirable) for a boy, but for a girl.... Well, I would be selfish if I refused for her all the things that I cannot give her. Sometimes my soul rebels, and I say to myself “Two rooms, anywhere, however humble, but both children to share my standard of life....” Since last February when she saw us off on the Aquitania we have not seen our Margaret. The trip to Russia and the work it offered, enabled me to have one child to live with me, and that was Dick, who had lived with my parents ever since he was born and I had to work. Perhaps there existed in the bottom of my heart a vague hope that Mexico might give me back Margaret, as Russia had given me back Dick. However and wherever this is eventually achieved, there is no doubt in my mind that the only crown to my work can be the reunion of us all three. Until I can build up a home and an environment worthy of Margaret, I have achieved no success. It is an incentive to work, and in the meanwhile one must not lose heart. One must not count, at night, the months that have passed since January. One must not think of the growth, in body, mind and soul, of the child who is out of sight. One must not expect her to be just as one left her. One must not think too much about her at all, for fear it gets too hard--and above all one must never allow oneself to think on lines that critics would describe as “sob-stuff.” [Illustration: MARGARET, WHO IS BEING BROUGHT UP IN ENGLAND, LIKE A CONVENTIONALLY PROPER LITTLE GIRL! (Photograph by Marceau) ]