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January 2nd., 1936.

Dear Beatrice:

When last I had the pleasure of hearing your voice over the telephone, it was in Paris in October, just the day prior to my sailing for these shores.  How long ago it seems!  You told me then that you expected to be in New York in this early part of December, and off and on I have called up the Waldorf to inquire whether they had any reservations for you.  Alas, no news was forthcoming!

A little while ago, I was fortunate enough to run across Azro Patterson, and you can imagine that my first inquires were about you.  Azro was most reluctant to give me any detailed information, but I gathered nevertheless that something was going on which did not seem to be exactly in accordance with your wishes.  I feel terribly upset about it, as I know how good and fine hearted you are, and I feel deeply that people like you should be spared all the pettiness of this world.

However, in view of Azro's most discreet behavoir, I have not wanted to try and gather information from other sources, as I much prefer hearing such news directly.  

t.s.v.p..................