Out of over 2,000 prisoners only about 25 or 27 were women, and of these about 10 came and talked to me in the sitting room, showed me their needle work and conversed animatedly about the world outside. They seemed in their hearts, almost unbeknown to themselves to be tremendous feminists, and we had quite a heated debate on the subject of whether men were intellectually superior to women, as a man asserted to me the day before at lunch. We all granted the physical superiority, but as to the rest ... well, happily we were all women and no man heard us! We discussed the impending disarmament convention, and we agreed that it would most likely end, as the Versailles conference ended. We conjured up the picture of all the best brains in the world, gathered together for months and months, with all their retinue of secretaries, and their secretaries’ secretaries, and we were of unanimous opinion that women thus collectively could not have talked more, with less results. Indeed the result of Versailles is completely nil. Some of us dared to believe that women _might_ have done better! I like to think of even the women behind gaol bars, women of varying ages and nationalities, women with hardened or breaking hearts, putting aside now and then their personal griefs to watch, humorously, this conference of men who assemble for the second time, all seriously, to settle the problems of a perplexing and rebellious world. At last I asked what I could do for them outside and the request was for books. New books, the latest publications, “something well written--and modern!” Classics they had in plenty. The Russian prisoner wanted “Confessions” by Tolstoi. The Italians, however, said they would read nothing, not even if I secured Italian editions! To the charming English girl, with a life sentence, I promised Margot Asquith’s diary, Strachey’s Queen Victoria and the Mirrors of Downing Street. Then Warden Johnston came and fetched me and showed me all he could of the rest of the prison.