Helen's Week

Last week Helen Wills (if it is true that she is keeping a diary) continued her entries in the red morocco notebook (TIME, Feb. 8), somewhat as follows:

Tuesday. Paired with C. F. [C. F. Aeschleman, Swiss star], I won another match in the Nice mixed doubles. He is the best kind of partner because he is so modest. I think he is a little afraid of me. Whenever there is any doubt about a ball, he lets me take it, but he is always there when I need him. Critics who saw us play today (we defeated Mile. Neveu and Capt. Christie in two love sets, and then Miss Evelyn Woods and Mr. Caulfield, 6-0, 6-1) said that they thought we would give Suzanne and the Baron [Baron Henri de Morpurgo, Italian champion] a run for their money, if we meet in the finals.

Wednesday. Marvelous morning. Patou called me up and asked if I should like to try on my dresses. Would I like to try them on! An old-rose coat trimmed with fur, a satin cyclamen evening frock, a white silk tennis dress wonderfully cut, one walking dress of rose, another in pale grey. This is simply too divine, I thought; it just isn't true. But when I jumped out of the car at Patou's, there were all the reporters sitting around, staring at the manikins, the frocks and me, like morticians at a flower-show. Dieu! These American reporters, with dandruff on their collars! One of them was decent enough, though, to bring my racquets on to Nice. I was so excited in Patou's that I had forgotten them. A human interest story in that, no doubt.

Thursday. Dreamed I was playing Lenglen. My arm was paralyzed. I couldn't lift my racquet, and her shots came as fast as bullets from a machine-gun. They fell all around me with monotonous little explosions, tum-tat-tat-tum. ... It was rain on the roof. . . . No tennis today, I thought, and went to sleep again till 11 o'clock. . . . Some minx started the rumor that Patou had given me $1,000 worth of clothes. When reporters asked him about it he said: "You know I never gave anything away in my life." A good friend of mine, that little man.

Friday. Today Lenglen played Mrs. R. E. Haylock (English) and beat her 6-0, 6-0. I took my match from Mrs. Haylock last week, 9-7, 6-2; so it must be granted that Lenglen seems in better form than I am. They say the fops at the Casino are laying 7 to 1 on her and no takers. . . .

Saturday. Well, we meet Lenglen tomorrow. We beat Miss Radcliffe and Stanley Doust today, 6-1, 7-5, and we were going some--our best so far. If we are still going tomorrow, Suzanne and her Baron better watch out. But anyhow I hope it will keep those reporters quiet for a while. You'd think I was a divorcee the way they follow me around.

Sunday. Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit.* But for the moment it is a trifle depressing. Suzanne and the Baron came down like wolves on the fold and whipped us to a standstill, 6-1, 6-2. It was a terrific, savage match. We played our best, every stroke. The reporters said C. F. looked like Jack Dempsey smashing away at the net with his jaw way out. And that I was pale with concentration. Perhaps I was foolish to change from driving to lobbing against Suzanne, but it seemed best at the time. She was like a silk whirlwind in a salmon pink sweater. She talked constantly, while I pressed my lips tight shut, like President Coolidge. Her drives and placements came my way every time. I tried to drive her back with lobs, but both she and the Baron slaughtered one after another. He hit so hard he bent his racket. ... At the end, Suzanne threw the balls into the stands, rushed to the net with that fixed smile of hers and gave me a handshake, a clammy one. . . . C. F. was great! He tried to take all the blame.

Monday. Today was better. I tried driving again instead of lobbing, and took two sets from Ethel Fisher in the first round of the women's singles without giving her a game. Afterwards I practiced most of the day. Suzanne drew a bye and didn't play. The betting is terrible! They say the people here lost 100,000 francs on us yesterday.

*Perhaps it will be pleasant to remember even this some day"-- Vergil. Miss Willis is a member of Phi Beta Kappa, national scholastic honors society.