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 Vie Parisienne, he never forgets to add, 'but don't give it to me in front of my officers.'" It must be the same with women. The Englishman will allow a French woman to "have a peep" at his soul. To his compatriot he offers his dignity and his prestige—which are no better than a bag of bones!

What I have always known, has been brought home more forcibly than ever during this trip. In matrimony, at his office, and in the home, the Englishman must be master. We can, if we must, accept a good master. Who will help us against the bad? Do the Laws of England?

It sometimes seems indiscreet for an Englishwoman to visit the British Embassies in foreign capitals, but I rarely omit to call on the French; and there are, of course, certain advantages, under some circumstances, in a twin-nationality. I have been invited to their Christmas lunch by General and Madame Pellé.

Mr. Neville Henderson, the British chargé d'affaires at Constantinople, though certainly not pro-Turk, does not hesitate to criticise the Greeks. An ideal sense of balance for a diplomat.

The Turks like Mr. Henderson; and when I remarked on the apparent anomaly that "one can be popular in Turkey without being pro-Turk," I was met by the astounding retort that "he succeeds because he knows how to talk"—a strong argument against "silent" diplomacy!

I can only hope that he may long remain at his post. Although he may not like to hear his beloved Foreign Office called a "mausoleum," or the burial-ground for twentieth-century ideals. Of him, one can repeat what a Cabinet Minister once said of France: that "he is one of the few ready to give a criminal, or a genius, his chance." Though not an enthusiast for any "Asiatic Revival," he will accept the inevitable, and cheer the winner. May he stay at his post at least till danger is past.

I have just made my first, and I hope my last, stay