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 that a woman who, despite difficulties well nigh insurmountable, has been able to reach Smyrna without a British viza, means to get her way and will not be lightly driven back.

If only the man had adopted the bullying and supercilious tone that becomes a uniform! One can so easily meet the "correct" officialism, counter its attacks, stand up to its incivility, and go one's own way with a clear conscience. But it was not to be with my Scotch friend.

"I admire your courage immensely," he said with a courteous grace, "but, pardon my asking, what is the sense of it all?"

"I want to study 'the movement' at Angora, and to see the national hero, M. Kemal Pasha."

"Is it worth risking your life for that? Forgive me, it does seem rather a wicked waste."

Outside his windows, on the calm waters of the bay, rode warships of many nations. The bright sun looked down, unkindly it almost seemed, upon the ruin and desolation around us. The arms of England, France and America were all there. Holland, he told me, had begged in terror for the protection of a warship.

"Terror of what?" I asked.

"Have you not heard, can you not see, we are on the brink of war? To-morrow you will be going home with the others. Our Government has given orders for the immediate evacuation of all our people. Later you will receive final instructions, and be told the meeting-place. This time it is war. There is no help for it. It has to come."

He showed me a flash-light, well hidden in a corner of that dilapidated office, which would send out its news of "safety" when every Englishman had left the town, and he, my friend, had followed them in a boat with its oars muffled—if he were able to get away. If not, well, he had done his duty!

But I remained unmoved. "Do not worry about me. I have made all my plans, and shall start to-morrow for Angora. I know the risks, and I know, too, that all will be well for me."