large room thick with smoke. The men were all wearing kalpaks, and evidently puzzled at first by the "Englishwoman in their midst." Some of them smiled, others plainly showed their surprise, and others just stared.
After the cheik had opened the meeting in a very few words, our host rose to explain my presence. He told them that I had come to Angora entirely on my own responsibility, because, though our authorities called it "brink of war," I wanted to convince the Turks that we should not have war.
Then, with the Governor as my interpreter, I begged them "to believe that Mr. Lloyd George's policy was not the policy of the English people. He had only followed Gladstone in this matter, and he had been led astray by M. Venizelos. No other Englishman would make war on Turkey, and we, the people, were therefore determined upon his fall."
"Inch Allah," cried the people.
Then I said that "whether our Conservatives or Labour men followed Mr. Lloyd George, it would make no difference to them. Both parties are all for peace. I was not Turkey's only friend in Great Britain. We who knew were all hard at work for peace."
It was a strange meeting! Did the Governor really translate what the men actually said? Some were obviously filled with anger, though "saura-saura and Mr. Lloyd George" was all I could catch. The Governor interpreted, "The speaker does not approve of Mr. Lloyd George's policy."
"Nor do I," I replied, which made them all laugh heartily.
"In any case," I concluded, "there is not going to be war. It is contrary to all reason, and we have been enemies long enough! We are going to be great friends now."
I answered a host of questions, which, however, the Governor had softened in his interpretation to avoid hurting my feelings.
Finally my host invited the audience to express their appreciation of the visit from an Englishwoman, who had persisted, against such terrible odds, in coming
