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I was weaving in the apartment one winter evening when the telephone rang. "Miss Dorothy Wright, please. Long distance calling." It was Leon. He came straight to the point. "I think we should get married," he said. "I've been thinging [[thinking]] about it for a long time and I want very much to marry you." Just like that. No romantic scene with doe-eyed swain kneeling on a handkerchief and taking the hands of his beloved. He said he was coming to New York soon and we could talk about it then. It was a brief conversation in which I had little to say. I was not wholly surprised, having detected what I took to be signs that had marriage in mind. Several men had proposed to me before, but I had not been interested. Now I was. Leon was older, a cosmopolite, urbane, cultured and intellectually equal, if not superior, to me. Besides, I thought I was in love with him.

The decision having been taken, I went to California and presented Leon to my family. I then met his