Once she had with her son. He came back from Egypt where he was in the State Department, and he came with a huge, big beard, and she said, “Neville, I am embarrassed.” It was long before people wore beards; today it would be the thing to do, but he came back long before the young fellows wore beards. It was a huge, big beard. She said, “Neville, I am so embarrassed, I just don’t want to walk down Fifth Avenue with him. I would make him walk ahead or walk behind me. I don’t want to be seen with him. What must I do? Because he gets annoyed and will do nothing that his father or I suggest.” I said, “How would you feel if you kissed him and he had no beard? You would kiss your son, wouldn’t you?” “Oh, yes.” “Well then, put your hand on his face and he doesn’t have any beard, and then kiss him and feel that smooth skin that is your son’s face when he has no beard.” “All right, I will do that.” She didn’t tell me. I opened the morning paper one Monday-morning. There was a big fashionable social wedding, and here was Mrs. Roosevelt and her husband, and here is her son and here is the bride coming down the steps of the Episcopal Church, and he has no beard!1225 ¶43