I sat next to Frank P. Adams, whose modern “Pepys’ Diary” I have read from time to time. Goodness knows if he meant to be interesting or was really indifferent. He told me he had been invited to meet me half a dozen times, but had refused. Exactly why he had refused, I was unable to make out. But short of saying, “You are the divinest woman I’ve ever met, and I’ve been following you three-quarters of the way round the world to make your acquaintance,” he could hardly have said anything more arresting to a woman’s attention. TUESDAY, MARCH 8, 1921. I lunched with Mrs. Lorrilard Spencer, and met there an extremely interesting woman. She had a hawk’s eye, but a kindly smile. It was the face of a “femme savante.” She was Mrs. Eliot, and I never found out till later that she was a daughter of Julia Ward Howe, the author of the Battle Hymn of the Republic. Walking down Fifth Avenue in the afternoon, a woman caught me up and asked if I was Mrs. Sheridan. She said she was the Communist woman who came up and spoke to me after my lecture at the Aeolian Hall. I remembered her emotional Russian face. Her name, she said, was Rose Pastor Stokes. She had liked my sincerity and impartiality about the Soviet leaders. She apologized for not being able to ask me to a meal in her house (why should she apologize or ask me)? Her explanation was that she had married a millionaire, and he had “reverted to type” with the result that their meals were rather silent! I asked her to come and see me, but she said that she was under police surveillance and she did not wish to compromise me. We walked some way together. THURSDAY, MARCH 10, 1921. Kenneth Durant arrived to take me out to dinner, and with him came Mr. Humphries, whom I’d last seen in Moscow where he was working in Tchicherin’s office. He left two days before I did, but went over the Trans-Siberian to China and thence to Honolulu where his wife lives. We meet in New York, having between us encircled the world! I asked him laughingly, what he thought of my having become an authority on Russia! He said that he had to take it rather seriously when he read extracts from my Moscow diary in the Chinese papers! After dinner we went to Crystal Eastman’s. She edits the LIBERATOR and her husband, whose name is Fuller, is on the FREEMAN. I liked them. I liked her particularly. She is good looking, and extremely decorative. She sails into a room with her head high and the face of a triumphant Victory. The atmosphere was such as I recall in Moscow--hospitality that was simple and friendly, and discussions that were interesting and humorous. I feel so proud that this sort of people are nice to me. It is easy enough to be received by what is vulgarly called the “upper ten.” They open their doors to breeding or money, but among these others one can only get in through accomplishment. FRIDAY, MARCH 11, 1921.