For some reason I had to cancel my dancing appointment, but for some reason I couldn't call the Studio. So I decided to call R. at his hotel and tell him. Somehow I knew his room number and so I called up and asked for his room, and come to find out, the operator was Mr. F. and he asked who I was and I gave him my name. He said, "You can't talk to him." And I said, "Why?" And he said, "Because I know that you like him and the prestige of our Studio can't allow that kind of relationship between student and teacher. Anyway you have just got to cut out feeling that way. I am going to talk to you and your mother about it when you come this Saturday, and I am also going to talk to Mr. R. about it." And I hung up. I was immensely disturbed. I didn't want R. to find out how I felt. I was sort of half anxious and half afraid. So I told my mother about it and she agreed with me completely and she felt it was a completely stupid way to act. She didn't feel it was a bit called for or justified. In the next scene I was over at your house and I was telling you and K. about it. And I was in your house sitting on the davenport, and at the same time I was talking over the phone to K. and she was behind the davenport. And you were there too, sitting in the chair. She asked me what I was going to do about it and I said, "Well, I was just going to go down there and act real breezy about it, just like nothing had happened. And if they told me I had to have somebody else to dance with me, I was going to act real indifferent like, real nonchalant. The next scene, Mother and I were entering the reception room in the Studio and Mr. R. was there and greeted me real friendly like he always does, real sweet. And we went off to the Studio. We pushed one of the knobs for the record to start and while we were waiting for the record to start, we went over to a table that was up against the wall, at one end of the Studio. The top was covered by a white chiffon tablecloth, very voluminous. It was a gorgeous thing, very soft and full and beautiful. And on the table were two big silver candelabras with candles in them, and I think they were lit. Neither R. nor I were content with the way the table cloth was arranged, so while we waited for the music to come on, we went over to the table cloth to rearrange it in nicer folds. Then we started dancing the rumba. We did good and we had a lot of fun together, laughing and talking. And just then the door opened and in came Mr. F. and my mother and a whole bunch of men. And Mr. F. said, "Come here, R., I want to talk to you a minute." And Mother and I started dancing the rumba. And I said to Mother, "I don't like the way you lead this. Here, I am going to show you how." (By the way, she had a suit on.) As we were dancing, someone came up behind me and grabbed me from behind with both arms around the middle part of my legs, just below the knees. The hands were locked. And this person pulled me down on the floor and it was Mr. R. And I had on those panties that have tight elastic legs, and he pulled up my dress and pulled up one pant leg and just as that happened, I felt the hot light of flashbulbs and come to find out, all these men were photographers. And just as they did that, I gave a kick and said, "Let me go!" And so I got up and went into the reception room with my mother. Mr. F. was there and he said that "Mr. R. accepted a big boost in salary to do that to you, so you couldn't like him and so the prestige of our Studio would not be ruined." (These photographers were witnesses like.) And I was very hurt and it hurt me more than anything to think he would accept payment for such a thing, that he was that low. It wasn't only the idea that he would do such a thing, but that he would accept payment for it. I felt like crying, but I didn't. Instead I just turned around and stalked out.