her her typewriter, her lipstick, and her comb — testimony to the calm of her nerves, and to remind her companions that she was a woman!!

Many of her competitors fell back when the fighting grew fierce; as for her, she wallowed in the mud, made the earth her bed and the dew of the sky her blanket, and never missed a dispatch. She performed woman's office as kneader of dough, cook, and nurse. She carried the wounded to the hospitals, watched over them, and stayed up many nights without food or drink, until many counted her daring as madness.

Perhaps that thought steals over us too; but her performance of her double duty refutes it. What, then, is the secret of her courage, and of her difference from the pampered women of the age in America, who consider life a soft bed?

Opportunities did not offer them-selves to Marguerite Higgins in her early years to give herself over to elegance. She was born in Hong Kong in 1920, of a French mother and an Irish-American father, and was brought up in China and then in France until she had almost passed her first decade. The unanimity of her surroundings in glorifying fighting men and encircling them with marks of reverence and admiration — all this, together with other inner factors, created in her soul strength and hardness, and she flung herself forward with all her powers, answering the call of duty and responsibility, however great they might be. She despises everyone who shirks a service, saying: society has no need, from this day on, of its ladies drowning in damask and silk; whoever will not accept a substitute for the traditions of the past is not fit for the future and its developments.

As for Marguerite's philosophy of life, it is this: to forget the past if we fail, to work for the present, and to hope in the future... and he who grows up on a thing grows old on it!

From the Ladies' Home Journal