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on which I ever saw him "dressed up." We dined at the Biltmore that evening, and as we passed through the aisle of tables in a dining-room which sparkled with atmosphere under glittering candelabra, I heard a woman say, "There goes Harding!" I told him this and he identified her as a friend with whom he sometimes played billiards in Washington.

26

Mr. Harding and I had often talked of how wonderful it would be to have a child, and Mr. Harding told me frankly he had often wanted to adopt one, but "Florence" would not hear of it. He told me this in connection with his recital of his domestic unhappiness, and his usual final exclamation was, "She makes life hell for me, Nan!" And I, knowing this, did all within my power to make up to the man I loved all his legal wife failed to do. There was a time in 1918 when Mrs. Harding was very ill but Mr. Harding came over to New York to see me just the same. I remember once he said they had a trained nurse there constantly for a period. I felt sorry for Mrs. Harding, but I must confess I doubted very much Mr. Harding's love for his wife at any time in his life.

I used to think Mr. Harding might have liked to adopt me, though he never said so to me. However, he spoke very freely to me about what he would do if Mrs. Harding were to pass on—he wanted to buy a place for us and live in the country, and often during those days Mr. Harding said to me, "Wouldn't that be grand, Nan? You'd make such a darling wife!"

This reminds me: It was Warren Harding who told me for the first time of Angela Arnold's engagement. But he did not use the word "engagement." "I understand Angela Arnold is announcing her betrothment," he said to me one evening at dinner. He chose to use words which, though sometimes archaic, were somehow substantially good and seemed especially