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Mrs. Asche: My first view of Mrs. Asche was on the next court playing singles with Gerry the day Bowers and I played singles. I noted her rather casually, saw she was a better than average player and the impression was that she was relatively young. The next time I saw her was the night, Rue Oliver asked me to play bridge with the Shiffletts and "Mrs. Asche." Seeing her thus close at hand, her muscular, veiny, rather coarse little hands, lined face plenty made up, blond hair which looked dyed, I decided she was a woman in her forties trying to look like a deb, and making a poor job of it. Then I began to know her better, playing much tennis with her and some bridge. The oldish features became less conspicuous and one night in the dining room, with her flaxen hair done up with a braid ringed around her head and a pretty, light dress on, she actually looked sweet and girlish. She was Grace Vale, Smith, '26, daughter of a wealthy family from New York or thereabouts. Her husband is French and they live in Houston, Tex. where she is reputed to be the ladies tennis champion; she [[underlined]] is [[/underlined]] good. When we left, Mrs. Asche had taken two sets from me and I two from her, the rest being doubles. She apparently spends much time in Paris but what her husband does, no one seemed to know. As Mrs. Taft once said suspiciously in her rare way, "Where's Asche?" Her mother was with her, a big, matronly, homely but pleasant lady with pince nez and exuding an atmosphere of wealth and solidarity. Later Papa Vale came too, a jolly looking bankerlike gentleman with a round face and a stocky body, who also put forth an atmosphere of being in touch with the

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