fternoon I got a telephone message that the place for
the dinner had been changed from the "Majestic" to the Embassy. When I
reached there I was received by Sir Henry (Lord and Lady Derby were
also present). He apologised to me for the room being a little cold.
At dinner, which was perfect, he found fault and apologised for the
food, for the wine, for the waiting--nothing was right. It was great
fun. He kept it up all the evening. When saying good-bye to Their
Excellencies, he said: "I can't tell you how sorry I am about
everything being so bad to-night, but I'll ask you out to a restaurant
another night and give you some decent food and drink."

About this time I painted Lord Riddell, who, with George Mair and
others, was looking after the interests of the Press. Meetings were
held twice a day and news was doled out by Riddell, such news as the
P.M. saw fit that the Press should know. Great was the trouble when
George Adam would suddenly burst into print with some news that had
not been received through this particular official channel. Adam,
having worked in Paris for years, knew endless channels for news that
the others had no knowledge of.

Riddell was a great chap, full of energy, full of an immense burning (p. 113)
desire for knowledge on every subject, too, in the world. One always
found him asking questions, often about things that one would think it
was impossible he should take any interest in. He must have a
tremendous amount of knowledge stored up in that fine brain of his,
for he never forgets, not even little things. He was most kind to us
all and was hospitality itself. He personally was a very simple
feeder, and he never drank any wine or spirits, but nothing was too
good for those he entertained. A lovable man, well worthy of all the
honours he has received. He had a great support in his secretary, Mrs.
Read, a charming, gracious lady, who probably worked harder during
those days than anyone else, except, perhaps, Sir Maurice Hankey.

[Illustration: XLIX. _Lord Riddell._]

One night I dined at "Ciro's" with George Adam and some others. I was
late when I came in. Before we went into the dining-room, Adam told me
to take notice of an English lady who was sitting a couple of tables
away from ours. This I did, and I remembered having seen her
constantly at the "Berkeley Hotel," London, years before. She was most
peculiarly dressed in some sort of stuff that looked like curtains,
tall and slim, with a r