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Erie, Pa.,
Thursday, January 21, 1926.

Allende came over this morning and announced he may return to Schenectady February 1st so cannot be in the play. Hence, I went to the rehearsal alone, finally finding Mrs. Kloss's residence on West 10th Street. Talked to Allende on the phone and found he must report in Schenectady at 10 a.m. tomorrow to be sent possibly to Spain or Mexico City on business for IGE. So the friendship I have been so anticipating was suddenly dashed. Friendship is never dashed by separation; I should have said the fellowship. I am learning to take these things philosophically now though, realizing that there are many charming people in the world; moreover, one never knows when one may meet one's friends again somewhere. Life stretches out a long way ahead of us and the devious paths we take may cross again in future years. Which reminds me of my poem to Tania:

Out of the past
From a far country
Into my life
For a moment
You come, Tatiana.
Out of my life
Into the future
Into a far country
In a moment
You go, Tatiana.
Oh, sparkling, jubilant, glorious Youth!
May our paths cross again in future years.
May you be as brilliant,
Your light a bit richer perhaps,
For a few tears.

And I stepped from a very regretful farewell with Allende to a very delightful meeting with a very delightful little lady, Mrs. Dutton, the wife of the novelist-minister. She is what Florence DeWolfe would have been if she only had been pretty. And she reminds me of Eleanor Dodson too. So charming and jolly and easy to know at once. Oh, I fell full length flat for Mrs. Dutton the minute I saw her. She has that wonderful way of smiling at you that turns the whole worlds into a better place instantaneously. We read the play and the cast is most promising. I didn't feel any embarassment for a wonder and was able to get away with the Kitty part very well. They proclaimed me a "find. The evening wound up by Mrs. Dutton calling me up about ten minutes after she left and inviting me to dinner on Saturday. Sam Simmons and Mercellus Fisher rode me way out to Lawrence Park in Simmons' flivver, mighty nice of them, for it was a beastly night for driving, cold and snowy and windy and thoroughly forlorn.