Kemal, in his interview, said: “I am certain we shall eventually return to the traditional friendship between Turkey and Britain. I can see no obstacle thereto.” With the fall of the Coalition Government, the last obstacle has gone. Lord Curzon has been firm with the Turks, but not venomous, frank but not insulting. He can afford to leave rude harangues and offensive imprecations to the congress of fallen angels now assembling at Algeciras. Indeed, all the declarations of the Foreign Secretary go to show that he is sincerely anxious to reach a durable and friendly settlement with the emissaries of Angora, and that if he is determined to uphold the rights of the British, he is equally ready to acknowledge the independence of the Turkish Empire. We are glad to see that Kemal is anxious to reciprocate, and therein he shows himself to be not only a soldier but a statesman. For his task is not yet ended; indeed it is only beginning. He has saved his country from the Greek; he must now save it from the moth and rust of economic decay. In that great task he will find Great Britain his best friend. Fethi Bey has doubtless made it clear to him how much Europe can contribute to the economic reconstruction of Turkey, and a recent statement of Mr. Morgenthau should convince him that the United States will be a reluctant and difficult lender. In the long run he has to choose between free co-operation with Great Britain and an enslavement at the mercy of Bolshevist Russia. He seems already to have chosen the better course; for the sake of his country, and ours, we hope and believe that he will persist in it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XX MUSTAPHA KEMAL PASHA—THE MAN WHO IS MASTER OF HIS FATE MY eye fell on the portrait of a handsome Turkish lady, which was hanging over the Pasha’s writing-desk. “What a lovely face!” I exclaimed. “My mother,” said the Pasha, with obvious pride. “Would it be very indiscreet,” said I, “to ask if I might have the great pleasure of seeing her?” “She is very ill. The doctors are with her day and night. Alas, I fear she can never recover.” We afterwards went up the staircase to the invalid’s apartments. To my surprise, we found her seated on a wide divan, supported by cushions. It was difficult at first to believe that she was so near the end. “Alas!” said Mustapha Kemal, “her suffering has come through me. She is paying back now the tears and anguish she spent for me in exile.” There was sorrow in his voice, too heart-broken for many words. “Now you can take part in his victory,” I said. “How proud you must be of your son. His is a wonderful story. I am proud only to have spoken with him and seen his work.”