John McCutcheon gave me a farewell dinner tonight of which I got one half, as the police made me go on board at nine, although we do not sail until five in the morning.
So there was time for only one toast, as I was making for the door.
Was it to your husband?
It was not.

It was to Hope Davis, two weeks yet of being one year old, and being toasted by the war correspondents in Salonica.

They knew it would please me.

And I went away very choken and happy.

SUCH a boat as this is! I have a sofa in the dining-room, and at present it is jammed with refugees and all smoking and not an air port open.