responsibility and paying my own way he "simply would not believe."
The South American was the first of them all to express any confidence that the Turks would be kind. What he dreaded for me was the discomfort. "Above all," he said, "avoid the Red Army."
The Englishman characteristically pinned his faith on the courage of our race. "It has brought you here," said he, "and I believe it will bring you back. . . . Here is my woollen jacket, a tin of milk, and this letter to an American friend of mine. Promise me, if ever you are in difficulty, you will seek his help."
I afterwards made inquiries about this invaluable ally, though I was, fortunately, in no danger. I found that, after all, he never reached Angora, though he had applied to go there last March!
A Third Italian told me that he had just found a little silver St. Antoine de Padou among the ruins. . . . "My prayers for you will go with it always. After the snows of Angora, our Italian sunshine, its songs and its laughter, will await you." Besides the St. Anthony, he gave me a book of Italian proverbs, a box of insect-powder, cough-drops, and chocolate.
The Frenchman only exclaimed: "No Angora for me, merci! I am counting the hours until the boat arrives to take me away from all this."
The Englishwoman (Mrs. de C) felt proud to think of the "feather in a woman's cap," that such an adventure would surely prove.
The Dutchman declared that he would trust even his own daughter on such a journey, if "the Vali had pledged his word for her safe conduct. . . . I know this country inside out—its language, its dangers, its possibilities, its virtues and faults. . . . You may trust the Vali. . . . If war breaks out, they will take you, with all possible politeness, to the nearest frontier."
He gave me all kinds of useful information, and much-needed boxes of matches and cigarettes.
Truly a wonderful budget of advice and a most original collection of gifts! Did ever a woman thus start such a quest?
