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waiting for someone. Mr. Harris arrived and the
elderly man and myself both rose to our feet. I was
introduced to Harry Melvill and we all sat down
together and had lunch. Harry was most enter-
taining and never stopped talking. Certainly no
one wanted him to. I did not tell him until years
afterwards about the 'bus incident as I thought that,
perhaps, he did not want to be seen on that occasion.
He laughed very much when I did. During the War
he had been the head of the passport office in Paris,
as he was too old to join the Army, in fact he was
much older than he looked. He died, unfortu-
nately, for all of us, last year. He was the kindest
person imaginable. At the cocktail party he talked
French incessantly to the French, lots of French.
He spoke French very fluently and correctly
but in the same way that he spoke English. Con-
sequently, unless one was close to him one thought
that he was speaking English. I met Mrs. Reginald
Fellowes and she asked me to dinner at her home.
Some days later I went. I wore one of my grand
evening dresses and some large pearl earrings and
looked, I thought, very fine. Mrs. Fellowes had an
enormous apartment in the Rue de Galilee. Lady
Michelham, the Princess Murat and Lord Wim-
borne were there and several other people. There
were some fine Fragonards on the walls and the
dining-room was decorated with large still-lives,
representing pheasants and fruit and flowers. They
were by some eighteenth-century Master and were
very beautiful. I was rather terrified as there were
three butlers and so many knives and forks that I