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It is of interest, nevertheless, to put on record the various, not altogether unreasonable, warnings that I received at the hotel in Smyrna from my fellow-guests. One and all were quite convinced that I had taken leave of my senses. Only a mad woman would think of going to Angora at this season and on the brink of war!

The Spaniard had spent his life in the Near East and knew the Turks! “Your own friends,” he said, “the Ministers who know you, may show you the greatest respect; but you are English and cannot speak the language. The people are mere fanatics!” However, he gave me a box of insect powder, a bottle of iodine, and—most welcome of all to me—a yard of flannel to make an abdominal belt!

One Italian implored me to “come back and enjoy the Italian skies.... You will freeze in Angora.” He gave me a packet of chocolate and half a bottle of cognac.

A Second Italian could only endeavour to “face the fact” that I was determined to have my way. As he knew something of where I was going, he brought me quinine, asperin, mosquito-cream, and calomel.