--/--/ He is in a very strange state of mind now that is dangerous. He and his wife, -- -- -- -- have separated. I have heard them each tell their stories, and there is nothing nasty or petty about it at all--they have simply agreed that they have failed in establishing a certain deep relationship which they had felt was a part of the reason for their being together, and they are still very good friends. It is complicated for both of them, however, by the fact of their baby boy, which both are very attached to. I have been making a number of drawings lately. One of Jean Toomer, one of Waldo, and one of an amusing young lady. They are all very interesting, and even Gaston Lachaise, who was in to see me recently, thought that they were worth while. If I had time I should do more, but it is really only when I am not doing what I want to in my writing that I am very much tempted to draw. So I shall probably not do any more drawings for a year or so. --/--/ 157: TO HIS MOTHER _New York_ _Oct. 5th ’23_ Grace, dear! I had just got my pajamas on last night when there was a rap on the door. I opened and in walked Waldo Frank--behind him came a most pleasant-looking, twinkling, little man in a black derby--“Let me introduce you to Mr. Charles Chaplin,”--said Waldo, and I was smiling into one of the most beautiful faces I ever expect to see. Well!--I was quickly urged out of my nightclothes and the three of us walked arm in arm over to where Waldo is staying at 77 Irving Place (near Gramercy). All the way we were trailed by enthusiastic youngsters. People seem to spot Charlie in the darkness. He is so very gracious that he never discourages anything but rude advances. At five o’clock this morning Charlie was letting me out of his taxi before my humble abode. “It’s been so nice,” he said in that soft crisp voice of his, modulated with an accent that is something like Padraic Colum’s in its correctness. Then he, blinking and sleepy, was swung around and was probably soon in his bed up at the Ritz. I can’t begin to tell you what an evening, night and _morning_ it was. Just the three of us--and Charlie has known Waldo quite a while--they’ve been in Paris together and have a few mutual friends. Among other things Charlie told us his plans (and the story of it) for his next great film. He has a five acre studio all his own now in Berkeley, and is here in New York at present to see that the first film he has produced in it gets over profitably. He doesn’t act in it. But he wrote story, directed and produced it entirely himself. It’s running now for just a week or so more at the “Lyric” theatre to box prices. Then it will be released all over the country. _A Woman of Paris_ it’s called. I haven’t seen it yet.