Shortly before the debacle of the Greek army in Asia Minor I was discussing the question of war weariness with English friends at luncheon in a London club. Aware that good fortune had thrown me with men who knew--if any did--the state of the public mind in Great Britain, I was trying to find out whether the British would be ready to back by force of arms the French reparations demands upon Germany. My informants were unanimous in the belief that no Government could lead the English people into a new war. “Not a chance in the world, any more than there is in your country,” declared a Foreign Office man. “We know that so well that we got out of Ireland, compromised with Egypt, put up with a makeshift in Mesopotamia, stalled on the Zionist business in Palestine, and are constantly warning the Government of India to avoid trouble internally and with Afghanistan.” “You mean that the people are not behind you in support of traditional policies abroad, unless you can work them into feeling that pride and honor are involved.” “As for pride, we’d swallow a lot before we would allow the income tax to go higher, and that honor business depends upon the press. Well, our press is as pacifist now as it was jingo a few years ago. We are not in a fire-eating mood. I do not think of any problem in international politics that could involve our people in war.” “How about the Straits?” I asked. “Oh, yes, the Straits; that’s different,” admitted my friend. “We should have to fight for the freedom of the Straits. No alternative there if the Greeks should lose out and the Turks push us.” “Having been incited to push you,” I commented. “Having been incited to push us,” he repeated gravely. And the others bowed assent. This took me back to the previous week in Paris, when I had twice secured modifications of sweeping statements from men in the highest position by the same simple question. When one statesman told me that France would never extend the hand of fellowship to the Bolsheviki, I asked, “How about the Straits?” And when another statesman declared that France and Great Britain must and would see eye to eye in perfect solidarity “for the sake of the future of civilization,” I asked, “How about the Straits?” In both instances there was the admission that making up with Lenin and destroying the Entente were lesser evils to France than seeing the English, either openly or indirectly through Greece as a tool, installed at Constantinople, and, _ergo_, in control of the Straits.